


When the Bough Breaks

by NiennaNir



Series: Love and Other Nursery Tales [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Child Neglect, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kid Fic, Multi, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:16:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 83,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiennaNir/pseuds/NiennaNir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was meant to be just another mission, but an unexpected discovery in what was supposed to be a Hydra weapon's lab turns the lives of everyone in Avenger's tower upside down and forces each of them to confront the darkness of the past as well as their hopes for the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then the traveller in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> This story revolves around events of child abuse, neglect, and experimentation and delves into the resulting psychological trauma. Please be advised that the subject matter may be disturbing and that the rating is meant to reflect that. 
> 
> If you're here looking for steamy romance, you're going to be disappointed. Don't complain, this was your warning.

“It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, boys and girls,” Clint drawled, his bow singing over the coms, Steve cringed to keep from rolling his eyes, his pistol drawn as he darted a look around the corner. He barely got off a shot before the return fire sent him back behind the cover of the intersecting corridor. ****

“Need some help Mr. Rogers?” Clint snarked.

 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Steve replied, his tone verging on frustrated. 

 

“Stop teasing the national icons, Hawkeye,” Phil’s voice crackled over the coms. “It’s distracting.”

 

“Agent,” Tony’s voice broke over the channel. “I’ve got sights on back-up heading in Cap’s direction.”

 

“Get some hustle on, Hawkeye,” Coulson barked. 

 

“There in three!” Clint answered. Steve got off another shot, pressing his back to the wall.

 

“Two… one,” He counted down softly. He heard the unmistakable crash of a ceiling tile and he rolled out into the corridor, staying low behind his shield. He managed to pick off two of the grunts that had pinned him down, the other six were already on the ground, twitching with stun arrows lodged in them.

 

“It’s such a good feeling to know you’re alive,” Clint grinned.

 

“I get the reference and it’s not funny,” Steve declared, shaking his head with a sigh.

 

“What are you talking about?” Clint demanded, stepping over bodies with a swagger. “I’m hilarious.”

 

“You’re really not,” Steve informed him regrettably. 

 

“Yeah yeah,” Clint nodded, grasping him by the arm and spinning him, propelling him down the hall. “Let’s get out of here, chuckles, before more of those Hydra goons decide they want to be our neighbors.”

 

“Agent, I’m funneling about fifty researchers in your direction,” Tony stated. “They look mostly unarmed, have your boys round them up for me, I’ll take out their escort.

 

“Thor, make sure none of them escape to the south,” Steve ordered.

 

“With pleasure, Captain,” he answered.

 

“I think I’ve found what we’re looking for,” Natasha’s voice came in. Cap and Hawkeye paused a moment, looking at each other before picking up their paces. “Bottom level, Central block, south west corner.”

 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, heading in that direction.

 

“It’s a sixteen inch thick steel blast door with seven coded locks,” Natasha answered, her shrug evident in her tone.

 

“That’d be it,” Steve nodded grimly. “Bucky?”

 

“I’m on my way to Widow’s position,” He confirmed.

 

“I have secured the south section, Captain,” Thor reported in.

 

“Great!” Steve nodded. “Bruce, get a pickup from Thor and head in. Tony?”

 

“It’s all over but the crying, Cap,” Tony answered, the sound of repulser fire indicating it might not be quite as over as he implied. “Give me five minutes to sweep the floors.”

 

“Acknowledged,” Steve agreed. “Hawkeye, eyes up high, we have no idea what we’ll find in there.” Clint nodded and they rounded the last corner, Natasha and Bucky coming into view.

 

“JARVIS, I could use some help here,” Natasha requested, clicking some magnetic metal disks against the computerized locks.

 

“One moment, Agent,” The AI’s voice answered.

 

“You know in our day we had to break through these things on our own,” The Winter Soldier observed, pointing between himself and Steve.

 

“Those were the good old days, gramps,” Natasha smirked back at him as the locks disengaged.

 

“Ouch, burn,” Steve declared, clapping him on the shoulder as he followed Natasha and Clint though the heavy door.

 

“Seriously?” Bucky demanded.

 

“Hey, she’s your gal!” Steve turned back to him with a shrug before spinning on his foot. He skidded to a stop two paces later.

 

“Well, hell,” Clint observed. The lab seemed to go on for miles, banks of computers and strings of bio coolers lined up row upon row into the distance.

 

“Doctor Ross, better get your team ready,” Steve advised into the coms. “You’re going to want to see this as soon as we have it locked down.”

 

“We’re waiting for your signal,” Betty confirmed.

 

“What have you found, Cap?” Phil asked, his tone cautious. Steve motioned to Clint who let lose a grappling arrow, scaling the wall and clambering into the overhead scaffolding two stories up. 

 

“I don’t think our intelligence was entirely accurate,” Steve answered as Natasha and Bucky crept forward, back to back, their guns drawn.

“Guys, we got company at three o’clock,” Clint’s voice was barely more than a whisper in the coms. Steve strode ahead in the indicated direction, Natasha and Bucky flanking him.

 

“I have your position,” Tony said. “Give a shout if I need to bust my way in.”

 

“Will do,” Steve agreed. “Bruce, Thor?”

 

“We’re almost there,” Bruce answered.

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Bucky observed.

 

“If there were any good feelings they wouldn’t have called us,” Steve replied. The three of them burst around the corner of a bank of servers.

 

“I’d surrender if I were you,” Steve advised, smirking as Bucky and Natasha leaned around him to train their pistols on the half dozen scientists. The group froze, slowly raising their hands, their eyes wide with fear.

 

“They don’t make these Hydra fellas like they used to,” Bucky observed in disappointment.

 

“Who’s in charge?” Steve asked with a scowl. Five of the scientists glanced in one direction.

 

“I am,” the glowering middle aged man answered.

 

“How many more of your people are still in here?” Natasha asked, leveling her gun at his head.

 

“The others got away,” he insisted.

 

“Yeah, we picked them up,” Tony offered casually, striding into view, the boots of the Iron Man armor thumping against the floor. He swept up a tablet off one of the benches, looking over the data. “Stayed behind to destroy the evidence, huh?”

 

“Who else?” Steve repeated, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“I told you,” the scientist snarled.

 

“You really don’t want to piss him off,” Tony advised with a smarmy smile.

 

“What’s he going to do,” the scientist demanded. “Salute me to death?” An arrow whizzed through the air, imbedding itself in the table barely an inch from the researcher’s groin.

 

“That way!” He squeaked, lowering his arm just enough to point off toward the southwest. “Bauer and Hirsch were supposed to pack up what they could before we activated the detonators.”

 

“Candy from a baby,” Tony declared, turning away. “I got this.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” Natasha offered as Thor and Bruce appeared at the end of the row.

 

“Wrap up these knuckleheads for me,” Steve requested, hiding his smirk as Bruce fished a wad of zip ties out of his pocket, passing some of them to Thor.

 

“We’ll sweep the rest of the facility,” Bucky nodded in agreement.

 

“Hawkeye, keep an eye on Thor and the Doc for me,” Steve ordered. “If anyone gives them any grief, shoot them.” 

 

“Be careful, my friends,” Thor reminded, tying the lead scientist’s hands tight.

 

“Who, us?” Bucky’s eyes were shining behind his mask and Steve shook his head, certain he was grinning.

 

“I thought this was supposed to be weapon’s research,” Steve muttered as he and Bucky crept cautiously between the rows of equipment. “These look like biological experiments.”

 

“Just like old times,” Bucky answered grimly.

 

“Yeah, I could do without that bit of nostalgia,” Steve glowered, his attention straying to Bucky as they swept the maze of equipment.

 

“Couldn’t we all?” Bucky agreed. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

 

“Not on this scale,” Steve shook his head. “and I’ve been through Stark Industries R&D in LA.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky shot him a glare. “Because this place wasn’t already ominous enough.” Steve struggled to hide his smile.

 

“We got the last two,” Natasha stated, interrupting whatever gibe he’d been ready to make.

 

“Clint, you see anything?” Steve asked warily.

 

“There’s a pretty big containment lab near the center of the facility,” Clint replied. “Looks secure, I’m going to move around and try to get a look on the other side of it.”

 

“Good. Iron Man, take our guests back to hang out with their friends,” Steve directed. “Widow,  sweep toward the center, meet us there.”

 

“Your wish is my command, oh Captain my Captain,” Tony quipped. 

 

“I can never decide if he’s endearing or just an asshole,” Bucky observed rubbing his eyes.

 

“He grows on you,” Steve shrugged, the pair of them moving forward.

 

“Yeah, so do warts,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “What’d ya think’s been going on here, Steveo?”

 

“I have no idea,” Steve admitted as they carefully made their way forward. “Whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

 

“I get the feeling this is not a weapons facility.” Natasha remarked, fairly appearing beside them. Bucky turned quickly, his gun leveled at her but he instantly lowered it, cursing under his breath.

 

“I’m going to shoot you one of these times,” he snapped.

 

“As if you could ever be that sloppy,” Natasha countered.

 

“Guys, save it for later,” Steve sighed, cautiously creeping forward. He stopped short as he moved past the end of the row.

 

“Stevie did you just make a foreplay reference?” Bucky beamed, his expression crumpling as his eyes swept over the center of the lab.

 

The containment lab, if it could be called that, was a massive cage of shatterproof glass, littered with racks of hand weapons and an array of cameras pointed at its interior. Around the outside were exam tables with steel restraints, lab tables, and medical equipment that Steve was sure he couldn’t hope to identify.

 

“What is this?” Steve asked, a sick feeling washing over him. Natasha let out a string of curses in at least six languages, her face turning pale. “Widow?”

 

“It’s the Red Room,” Bucky’s voice shook with the admission, his expression contorted in pain despite the mask that hid half his face. He wrapped an arm around Natasha’s waist, gently pulling her to him as her knees shook.

 

“Tony, Bruce, get down here, now!” Steve barked into the coms. “Coulson, we need a containment team, it’s worse than we thought.”

 

“I’ve got them inbound,” Phil answered. “What did you find?” Steve drew in a shaking breath, his eyes carefully documenting every detail of the area. The facility was spectacularly, flawlessly clean, completely sterile, but if anything that only made it seem more frightening. Practically every surface screamed human experimentation, from the transparent closet-like holding cells to the electronically locking manacles on most of the exam tables to the coffin like box tilted nearly upright, a host tubes and wires protruding from it to connect to nearby computers. Steve’s hands shook as he stepped closer to it.

 

“What’s the big…” Tony’s voice trailed off as his eyes fell on Steve, his attention almost immediately riveted on the coffin.

 

“Shit,” he spat out. “Coulson they’ve been building super soldiers in here!”

 

“What?” Bruce demanded, horrified as he and Thor herded the now mollified group of scientists into the area.

 

“Say that again,” Coulson demanded breathlessly.

 

“They have an exact replica of Howard Stark’s Rebirth Casket,” Steve declared, his voice surprisingly even.

 

“We’re locking down the area,” Coulson confirmed, his businesslike tone once more firmly in place. “I’m sending in a second containment team and calling in demolition.”

 

“Cap!” Clint’s voice rang out from overhead and Tony’s head swung up to the rafters, Clint’s bow was trained on a point farther into the lab. “I think you better take a look at this!” Steve looked up, meeting Tony’s eye for only a second before hurrying off in the direction Clint was aiming.

 

“We’ve got this,” Natasha insisted, pulling free of Bucky’s grasp to help Thor and Bruce. Bucky reached for her only a moment before shaking off the tension that gripped his shoulders. He gave Tony a nod and the pair took off after the Captain. 

 

Steve rounded several lab benches, picking his way past what looked like chryo-tubes and some equipment he couldn’t even begin to speculate on. He wove his way between a rack of computer equipment and let out a gasp. 

 

“Tony, they’ve got a kid in here!” he shouted. On the table of what looked like an operating theater was a small, frail form, tiny arms and legs strapped down with thick leather restraints. Steve overturned a couple of lab benches, heedless of the damage, tension and fear rolling through his chest.

 

“Hey, buddy, can you hear…”

 

Steve had gentled his voice as he approached the table but the last word choked off before he could utter it, dissipating into a strangled sound just as Tony and Bucky appeared behind him. 

 

“Steve?” Bucky shot forward, grabbing the blond by both arms as he backpedaled in horror, stumbling over his own feet.

 

“Shit! What is it?” Tony demanded.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky breathed out, his own eyes wide as he took in the unconscious child. Steve spun on his heel, pushing away with a snarl of rage.

 

“What’s going on?” Clint swung down on a zip line, landing only feet away. Steve barreled past him, nearly knocking him over.

 

“No Steve!” Bucky shouted, making a grab for him and missing, Thor and Natasha rounded the corner, half dragging the pack of scientists between them, Bruce bringing up the rear. Outside they could hear the unmistakable sounds of the containment team deploying. The lead scientist Thor was roughly herding along tried to shake off his grasp and  Thor gave him a sharp jerk, a moment later Steve’s fist connected with the man’s jaw with a sickening crack.

 

“You bastard!” Steve bellowed, following the man to the ground to pummel his face. “What were you doing? What the hell do you think you were doing!?!?”

 

“Steve!” Bucky made another dive for him, struggling to pull him back. “No Steve, you’re assaulting a prisoner! Steve! Fucking help me here Thor!!” 

 

The Asgardian was looming over them with a stunned expression but at Bucky’s prompt he reached out, grasping hold of Steve’s arm and physically dragging him off the now nearly unconscious scientist as his compatriots cowered in fear, edging back behind Natasha and Bruce as if for protection.

 

“Steve, this isn’t helping!” Bucky insisted, his voice tinged with panic as he wrapped both arms around his friend’s chest, holding on for dear life.

 

“I don’t understand,” Bruce had pulled up the nearest monitor, scanning over the most recent data. “Were they experimenting on the boy trying to build super soldiers?”

 

“Well they did a shitty job of it,” Tony declared in disgust, removing one gauntlet and running a hand gently over the boy’s hair. “Look at the poor kid, he’s a damn mess!”

 

“He has stunted bone density, diminished lung capacity,” Bruce frowned, as he glanced over the readings. “insufficient T cell count. This has to be the worst failed attempt at the serum in history.”

 

“He’s never had the serum,” Bucky stated, his arm still wrapped tight around Steve’s chest as the blond stared down at the lead scientist with anger and revulsion.

 

“What do you mean?” Tony asked with a frown. The child stirred, his eyes opening to bare slits. “Hey there, buddy, don’t panic. Nobody’s going to hurt you. We’re going to get you out of here and you’re going to be nice and warm and safe.” Tony’s words were surprisingly gentle but the boy was either too damaged or too drugged to respond. He only stared back though half lidded eyes, a wet cough shaking his small frame.

 

Bucky winced and Steve let out a sound like a wounded animal.

 

“James, who’s the boy?” Natasha asked, the faintest look of dread in her eyes. Bucky tensed, his eyes watering. 

 

“Me,” Steve’s voice was barely a whimper and his shoulders shook as if he were struggling to get air. “he’s me.”


	2. Though I know not what you are

“He’s a clone,” Bruce declared, looking around the room, his gaze flicking over Nick Fury and Maria Hill who stood off to one side. No one bothered to ask what they were doing in Avengers tower. 

 

“You’re one hundred percent sure?” Maria Hill, for once, appeared a bit rattled. It wasn’t an attractive look on her. She glanced at Fury who stood arms crossed and silent.

 

“A clone,” Tony stated, clearing his throat uncomfortably, eying Steve. “Is like a genetic copy of another person.”

 

“Dear, god in heaven Tony, I know what a clone is!” Steve blurted out in exasperation. “I read _Brave New World_! I was born in 1918 not the dark ages!” Tony stared back at him nervously and Steve let out a huff that seemed both angry and pained.

 

“You okay, Steveo?” Bucky asked, his tone soft. Steve gave a jerky nod, his shoulders hunching as he folded his arms over his chest.

 

“What I’d like to know is why you removed him from a SHIELD containment site and brought him here,” Fury questioned with a pointed glare.

 

“Because, Nick,” Tony glowered. “Cap’s DNA had to come from somewhere, and as I recall you gave him your word SHIELD would never be involved in something like this.”

 

“We weren’t involved,” Maria snapped. “Do you honestly think we would have sent you on this mission in the first place if we’d known what you’d find?”

 

“She has a point,” Clint offered diplomatically.

 

“We’d have at least pulled Rogers from the roster,” Fury growled. “I’ve got a lead scientist in medical that I can’t question because he’s missing most of his teeth!” Steve winced.

 

“I’ve been captured more than once Tony,” he pointed out with a sigh of regret. “At this point almost anyone could have access to my DNA.”

 

“There’s a terrifying thought,” Bucky stated with a dark frown. The room fell silent under the weight of the implication. Bruce cleared his throat.

 

“We’ve no idea what the extent of the experiment was at this point,” he continued,  eyeing each of them in turn. “We’re still sifting through the data and honestly I’m not sure we’re even interpreting it correctly.”

 

“They intended to replicate the only completely successful Super Soldier in history and administer the serum,” Natasha stated, gazing up at Bucky. He seemed to consider this a moment before nodding in agreement.

 

“I’d have to say it’s very likely,” he admitted. “Natasha and I are the closest thing they’ve ever had to success and frankly we’re neither of us perfect specimens.”

 

“You’re lucky she loves you, bro,” Clint shook his head. “Because if I said that, she’d filet me.”

 

“I was not aware your science had progressed so far,” Thor stated with a frown. “Such things are dangerous even under the most skilled of hands.”

 

“Does Asgard have a lot of experience with clones?” Fury asked, his expression shuttered.

 

“No,” Thor shook his head. “It was a technology soon abandoned long before my birth. To fashion a single successful clone requires much trial and error and there is much suffering in the early attempts. No creature with a heart could bear to do such a thing.”

 

“That explains a lot,” Tony quipped. Bruce frowned at him scoldingly and he shrugged.

 

“The boy’s in terrible condition,” Bruce admitted. “His health is frail, and not because they’ve been experimenting on him. There are serious genetic and health defects. Clearly he wasn’t an entirely successful attempt.”

 

“Oh he’s a success,” Bucky sighed, biting his lip, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye. The blond's shoulders rolled forward, as if he were attempting to look smaller, his attention riveted on the floor. Everyone stared at him mutely as if waiting.

 

“None of you ever met Steve Rogers when he was six,” Bucky declared with a half shrug. “I have.”

 

“We thought he looked closer to four,” Bruce observed.

 

“No, trust me, he’s six,” Bucky frowned.

 

“Dear god, how did you ever make it to twelve?” Tony demanded, his expression repulsed as he turned to look at Steve.

 

“You’re not helping, Tony,” Bruce interjected.

 

“What are we going to do about this?” Steve asked finally, rubbing his eyes with an exhausted expression.

 

“Well, that’s complicated.” Fury admitted.

 

“Let’s, for the moment, pretend that we can make this as simple as possible,” Steve suggested, his brow furrowed. Fury nodded in concession, drawing in a slow breath.

 

“Technically human cloning is illegal in most parts of the civilized world.” He began. “The authorities have the right to remove the boy and retain custody of him. In this case, the authority in question being SHIELD.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Tony admitted.

 

“Normally,” Fury continued. “It’s been our policy to find the closest next of kin and ask them to take responsibility for any minors we have in custody.”

 

“Wouldn’t Steve be his next of kin?” Bruce suggested. 

 

“That’s where it gets complicated,” Hill admitted. “Because of the UN ban on cloning the child doesn’t technically have legal status or next of kin.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Tony insisted. “I have lawyers who’ll fight you on that.”

 

“Yes, we’re well aware of that,” Fury ground out with a glare. “And we could probably all go around in circles for years hashing it out. I’m not keen on keeping the kid but I’m also dead set against him falling into the wrong hands. So here’s the deal; This is an open offer to you Rogers, we’ll keep the boy, we’ll make sure he gets the best of care, we’ll guarantee he’s never experimented on again, ever, and you walk away from this and never look back. No questions asked.”

 

“Or,” Bucky demanded. 

 

“Or you take him, yourself,” Fury declared. “I don’t like the idea of him out in the real world, but I trust you, Cap. Call me a sentimental idiot, but I do. If you’ll keep him in Avengers Tower with you, I’ll release him to your custody. You can do as you see fit but if I find out you’ve moved him, SHIELD will have no problem taking custody of him.”

 

“In the Tower where the entirety of the Initiative will be guarding him every moment for the rest of his life,” Natasha observed.

 

“I think we can all agree that, all things considered, a normal childhood is not really in the cards for him,” Nick pointed out. “I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”

 

“Director,” Steve began hesitantly.

 

“Steve’s going to want that in writing,” Tony interrupted.

 

“Tony,” Steve gave him a pained, exasperated look. “I can’t ask my team…”

 

“Then we volunteer,” Tony cut him off. “ _I_ volunteer. It’s my damn house.”

 

“Absolutely,” Clint nodded.

 

“We’re in,” Natasha declared, glancing at Bucky for confirmation.

 

“The boy should be with his family,” Thor insisted.

 

“Agreed,” Bruce offered firmly.

 

“Tony,” Steve protested, his expression pained.

 

“We should at least keep him here until we know more about the experiments,” Stark insisted. “We might need to stabilize him, do you really want to trust that to just anyone?” Steve drew in a shaky breath.

 

“Director, I… I think I need time to consider… everything,” Steve admitted finally.

 

“Take all the time you need,” Fury nodded. “SHIELD will put together custody papers for you to review.”

 

“I want to go over his readings once more and make sure we know what we’re dealing with,” Bruce stated. “If… that’s okay?” He turned to Steve with an expectant expression. The super soldier simply stared back at him as if he weren’t entirely certain of his footing.

 

“He’s going to need a doctor,” Bucky reminded gently, a hand settling on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Um, yeah,” he said finally, nodding. “I trust you Bruce, whatever you think.” Bruce gave a firm nod and turned toward the lab door as Fury eyed each of them and slipped down the hall, Hill a step behind him.

 

“They had him pretty heavily sedated, but he should be waking up soon,” Tony remarked, keeping a wary eye on Steve. The room was silent for a moment and then, as if on cue there was a spectacular crash from the lab.

 

“Shit,” Tony cringed, making a dive for the door.

 

“It’s okay,” Bruce held out his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s all right, no one’s going to hurt you.” The boy was pressed into the far corner of the lab, his small fingers curled around a pair of surgical scissors that he was brandishing at Bruce with a fierce expression. Bucky barreled through the door after Tony and skidded up short, blinking in surprise.

 

“Stay away from me,” the child threatened. “Don’t touch me.”

 

“Woah, buddy,” Tony edged forward, grasping hold of Bruce’s sleeve and tugging him back, situating himself between the child and the rest of the room. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

 

“Don’t touch me,” the boy repeated, the hand holding the scissors was shaking and he let out a wet cough, his free hand tangling in his shirt over his heart.

 

“Look,” Tony held out his hands, easing down on the floor and edging forward until he was sitting cross-legged just out of lunging range. “We’re not the bad guys here, kid. We were looking for some dudes who were trying to hurt people, and we just sort of found you all by yourself. You were kind of in bad shape so we brought you home with us.” The boy didn’t move except the shake of his shoulders as he tried to stifle his coughing.

 

“You got a name, kid?” Tony asked. The boy stared back at him for a long moment as if frightened of giving a wrong answer. Finally he shook his head. 

 

“They wouldn’t have given him a name,” Natasha spoke, her tone emotionless. “Just an operative number.” Clint winced visibly.

 

“Well, I’m Tony, the big guy there is Bruce,” Tony stated, waving a hand over his shoulder. “We weren’t going to hurt you, we were just checking to see that you’re okay.”

 

“You’re not…” the child looked distraught, his eyes flicking over the lab with a sense of urgency. “Where are we?”

 

“We’re in a city called New York,” Tony answered, resting his elbows on his knees so that his shoulders hunched forward, making him look even smaller. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now, but you’re safe, nobody wants to hurt you.”

 

“You…” the boy swallowed as if steeling himself. “Take me back.”

 

“We can’t do that,” Natasha declared gently, crouching on the floor beside Tony. “There’s no one left.”

 

“They’re dead.” The boy stated. Natasha nodded slowly and without a word the child sank to the floor on trembling legs, curling in on himself.

 

“I… won’t tell you anything,” he insisted, though his voice was shaking.

 

“No, you won’t,” Natasha agreed. “We don’t need to know.”

 

“Nat,” Clint interrupted cautiously. Bucky cut him off with a shake if his head. 

 

“It’s all right,” Bucky nodded. “You don’t need to tell us anything if you don’t want to. We’re not your enemies.” The boy huddled closer to the wall, his frightened gaze shifting over each of them.

 

“What’s going to happen to me now?” he asked finally. 

 

“Lunch?” Tony suggested.

 

“Tony!” Steve groaned in exasperation.

 

“What?” Stark demanded defensively. “food usually makes me feel better. Look at the poor kid, he needs a sandwich.”

 

“Tony, he’s probably never had a sandwich,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

 

“All the more reason he should have one,” Tony insisted. “You hungry kid?” The boy stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding slowly.

 

“See there, you can’t go wrong with lunch,” Tony waved his hand. Steve’s brow furrowed as if his head ached and he ran his fingers through his hair, moving forward slowly and kneeling on the floor only feet from the boy who was now holding the scissors in both hands as if fending off attack.

 

“Listen,” Steve sighed. “I know you’re not dumb. You know you’re outnumbered.”

 

“I can fight you!” the boy snapped.

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded sadly. “But you can’t win. We just want to help you, that’s all. Now you can stab me with those if you want, and if that’s what it takes to prove to you that we’re not going to hurt you, you go right ahead. I’m not going to fight you.” 

 

The boy let out a shaky breath as if fighting some internal battle, frightened tears trickling out of the corners of his eyes. Finally he let the scissors fall from his grasp, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

“It’s all right,” Steve promised softly. “It’s going to be all right.”

 

“Why don’t we go make sandwiches,” Clint suggested, shuffling Bruce and Thor toward the door. 

 

“We’ll,” Natasha hesitated a moment glancing between Tony and Steve. “Help.” she decided finally. Steve looked up with a helpless expression but Bucky only shrugged, allowing Natasha to muscle him out the door as well. Steve turned a panicked look on Tony and the older man stifled a chuckle, shaking his head.

 

“So,” Tony said, rolling onto his feet. “food, yeah?”

 

“Um, yeah” Steve agreed, hesitantly. “We’ll go up to the kitchen and get something to eat. The elevator’s at the end of the hall.”  The boy gave the room one last nervous sweep before uncurling with a raspy cough and pushing himself up the wall. 

 

“Give yourself a second,” Steve warned gently. “We’re not in a hurry.” The boy drew in a handful of choked breaths, glaring.

 

“You’re trying to trick me into helping you,” The boy declared.

 

“No,” Steve shook his head. “You…”

 

“Look, kid,” Tony hunched his shoulders, resting his hands on his knees so that he was closer to the boy’s level. “You don’t trust us, and I don’t blame you. The place were we found you wasn’t exactly nice. We know they were hurting you.” The boy gave a shudder, looking into Tony’s eyes.

 

“That’s not going to happen here,” Steve insisted, his expression pained. “I promise, that’s never going to happen again.”

 

 “Promise?” the boy asked, his thin face crinkling in a confused expression. Tony’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“I,” Steve struggled a moment, looking into the frightened, angry face. What did the boy want? He couldn’t even begin to guess.

 

“A promise,” Tony said, swallowing as he rolled one of the stools closer, sitting so that he was meeting the child’s gaze. “Is when you… well it’s like giving yourself an order. You’re going to do something because you told yourself to.” Steve let out a gasp, his eyes turning back to the child wearing his own face. The boy was carefully considering Tony’s words, weighing them.

 

“Do you always obey orders?” he asked cautiously.

 

“No,” Tony admitted as Steve blanched. “But I always keep my promises. You’re safe here.” The boy let out another cough, his expression still wary.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said finally with a sigh, turing cautious eyes on Steve before looking back at Tony. “he’s right I can’t win.”

 

“Steve,” Cap offered, his expression pained. “You can call me Steve.”


	3. Up above the world so high

“What?” Steve hissed out under his breath as they headed down the hall from the labs, his brow furrowing at the amused twinkle in Tony’s eye.

 

“You weren’t a dummy before the serum, were you?” Tony grinned impishly.

 

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this,” Steve snapped back, shouldering past him toward the elevator.

 

“You coming kid?” Tony asked the boy who was still hovering in the doorway of Bruce’s lab nervously. He gave a sharp nod, creeping after them, he stopped in front of the glass of Jane’s lab, cringing at the computer banks and equipment.

 

“Hey it’s okay!” Tony said quickly. “Those are for space experiments, not people ones!” The boy’s look was incredulous but he edged by the door with a scowl.

 

“You can ask questions if you want,” Steve offered hesitantly, turning back to watch the child’s tentative progress down the hall. “We’ll all do our best to answer them.”

 

“What do you want in return?” the boy asked with a frown.

 

“Nothing,” Steve insisted. “You can tell us anything you feel you need to, but you don’t have to tell us anything.”

 

“We won’t even ask, okay?” Tony added, punching the elevator call button. The boy stared through the glass into Tony’s lab before working his way to the wall beside the lift, keeping his back to the corner.

 

“What experiments do you do here?” he asked.

 

“Engineering mostly,” Tony shrugged. The boy stared back at him blankly and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the mystified expression.

 

“He builds machines and computers,” Steve supplied. “Don’t get him started, he never shuts up about it.” He forced a smile before boarding the elevator.

 

“Hey watch it!” Tony shot back. He paused with his back against the elevator door, holding it open and giving the child a meaningful look. The boy slipped inside cautiously, keeping his distance from both of them as much as he could. It made Steve’s insides twist painfully and he looked away.

 

“What do you do?” the boy asked, looking up at Steve.

 

“He makes a mess,” Tony answered drily as Steve rolled his eyes. “JARVIS, kitchen.”

 

“I live here,” Steve supplied as the lift began to move. “This is my home.”

 

“Home,” the boy tested out the word. Steve struggled not to wince.

 

“Home is… a place where you sleep and eat and spend time with your family,” Steve tried to explain.

 

“A family is a grouping of genetically related individuals,” the boy recited.

 

“Um… yeah,” Steve answered.

 

“Like you and Cap,” Tony nodded. Steve shot him a glare. “We did some tests while you were asleep and you and Steve here are genetically related.” The boy looked up at Steve with skepticism.

 

“And the others,” he asked finally. “what do they do?”

 

“Lots of different things,” Tony replied. “You should ask each of them, get to know them. A lot of people live here. It gets a little crowded sometimes.”

 

“Only you would call less than twenty people living on fifteen floors of a skyscraper ‘crowded’, Tony,” Steve declared in amusement.

 

“I’m just saying it might be a lot of people for the kid,” Tony admitted, he glanced down at the boy who was watching him with careful eyes. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the lab, just, if it’s too many people it’s okay to say something, all right?” The boy shrugged, his brow knitting. The elevator door dinged and Steve gave him a tight smile before leading the way down the corridor.

 

They could hear the bustle of a half dozen people in the kitchen from the hall but if the sound unsettled the child he gave no outward sign. Steve ducked in through the doorway, the boy barely a step behind him as Tony hung back, making a show of checking his phone to hide the fact he was blocking off retreat.

 

“JARVIS, we’re out of ham again,” Bucky observed, glancing up at the ceiling.

 

“I shall have groceries delivered this afternoon, sir,” JARVIS answered. 

 

“Dum-E’s watching the blood test results,” Betty declared over her shoulder to Bruce, hastily assembling a sandwich. “I need to get back to the cell cultures.”

 

“No working late,” Bruce admonished, brushing a quick kiss on her lips “you’ve been in the lab three nights this week.”

 

“You should talk,” she teased, wrapping her sandwich in a paper towel and hurrying past Steve.

 

“Hey kid,” she grinned, not even pausing.

 

The boy leaned around Steve precariously, taking in the room with a sharp, scrutinizing eye. His attention lingered over each of the kitchen’s occupants until finally studying the room itself. His breath caught in his throat and he stared, gaping at the wide expanse of windows.

 

Steve looked down in surprise as the boy slipped past him on hesitant feet, inching forward until his small hands were pressed to the glass. New York rose around them in sun drenched steel spires, the crystal shine of glass reflecting the sunlight. The boy let out a choked breath as if he were too shocked to even breathe properly, tears stinging his eyes.

 

“What…” 

 

“That’s New York,” Natasha explained, crouching beside him. “A lot of people, perfectly ordinary people, live here. You’ve never seen the world outside before, have you?” He shook his head.

 

“I don’t understand.” he murmured.

 

“This isn’t what they told you the world was like,” she said softly. “I know, I was like you once. The people who hurt you, they didn’t always tell you the truth. It’ll take you a while to find your way through the lies, but that’s all right.”

 

“You were like…” He hesitated as he turned to face her, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t find the words he needed. “They said that I was supposed to be special.”

 

“You are,” Natasha nodded.

 

“They said I was broken,” he added, his voice trembling.

 

“Well that’s just bullshit,” Tony declared. Steve shot him a withering look.

 

“You have some problems,” Natasha stated. “It doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

 

“You’re special too?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Yes,” Natasha nodded. “There are people, bad people, who take special children, special people, and they hurt them and try to turn them into weapons. That’s what happened to me, it’s what happened to you too. They should not have done that to you.”

 

“They did it to me too,” Bucky nodded. “That’s why we’re here. It’s safe for us here.” The boy looked up at him wide eyed for a long moment before turning searching eyes on Steve.

 

“Are you special too?” He asked hesitantly.

 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, his cheeks coloring, he crossed the room, kneeling on the floor. “I was lucky though, I had good people to look out for me, Tony’s dad, his father Howard made sure I was ok. This is his tower and he protects us. Everybody here is special in some way and he makes sure no one harms us.”

 

“And that’s why you brought me here?” the child asked skeptically. Steve nodded.

 

“Come sit and we’ll find you something to eat,” Natasha coaxed, guiding him back toward the kitchen table.

 

“Why did you tell him we were related?” Steve hissed out as Natasha settled the boy in a chair.

 

“Because he needs a reason to trust us,” Tony rolled his eyes. “He keeps watching us like he thinks our heads are going to explode or something.”

 

“Nat says peanut butter's a safe bet,” Clint stated, pushing the plate across the table toward the child. “But just in case she’s wrong.”

 

“I’m not wrong,” Natasha insisted, pouring a glass of milk.

 

“Just in case she’s wrong,” Clint continued, glaring slightly. “We’ll make you something else.” She shot Clint a withering look, handing one glass of milk to Steve and setting the other in front of the child who was staring at his plate with clear trepidation. Natasha studied him a moment before reaching out and stealing half his sandwich. She took a bite staring at him impassively as she chewed. the boy watched her for a long moment, his eyes flicking cautiously to Steve who was absently emptying his glass. 

 

“I didn’t make that for you,” Clint scowled as the child eyed the food in front of him with an expression that was both terrified and ravenous.

 

“It’s not my fault you’re slow,” she pointed out, taking another bite. “Make me a sandwich.” The boy glanced at her nervously again before carefully picking up the remaining half of his sandwich, taking a small experimental bite as if he weren’t certain how these things worked. His eyes grew wide in surprise as he chewed and Natasha smiled.

 

“Not bad hmm?” Tony asked with a pleased expression as he headed to the counter to make himself a sandwich. He glanced over at Steve who’s gaze was pinned on the boy, still carefully eating his sandwich with the coordination of a much younger child. 

 

“Steve, you got a minute?” Bucky asked, giving his sleeve a tug.

 

“Um, yeah,” Steve nodded, setting down his half empty glass and allowing Bucky to physically move him out to the rec room. 

 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Bucky demanded with a scowl, once he was certain they were well out of ear shot.

 

“This is a bad idea,” Steve hissed back, throwing worried glances over his shoulder. “We’re not equipped for this, look at him! He doesn’t know how to eat a sandwich.”

 

“He’s a kid not a damn bomb, Steve,” Bucky rolled his eyes in exasperation as he folded his arms over his chest. “A croupy, scrawny kid. What’s the worst that’s going to happen?”

 

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “That’s the part I’m worried about. What _is_ the worst that’s going to happen? Because I’m pretty sure you haven’t got any idea how badly this could go wrong either!”

 

“You’re freaking out,” Bucky observed, gaping at him. “You’re freaking out over a kid? Nazis, no problem! Hydra, so what? Space aliens, all in a day’s work! And you’re losing it over a six year old with asthma?”

 

“You know, none of you are nearly as concerned about this as you should be,” Steve declared defensively. “Tasha is treating him like a pet and I keep waiting for Tony to threaten to donate him to the Community College! This is serious!”

 

“Yeah it is,” Bucky shot back, poking him in the chest. “There’s a kid in there that’s spent his whole life in a lab with assholes experimenting on him. And now he has a chance at something that might remotely resemble a normal life and _you_ are all up in my face about my not taking this seriously when I’m one of only two people in this place that has any idea of what he’s been though.” Steve’s angry expression folded almost instantly. His eyes going wide and hurt.

 

“Oh god, not the puppy eyes again,” Bucky snapped, cuffing him sharply in the shoulder. He hissed out a low string of expletives, his eyebrows meeting in a scowl. “Did the serum enhance that damn pathetic look?”

 

“Have you looked around here lately,” Steve lamented. “There isn’t a single responsible adult here.”

 

“Phil’s not bad,” Bucky defended. The pair stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Bucky rolled his eyes, swearing under his breath as he stalked back to the kitchen, Steve trailing after him. 

 

“I think he needs a name,” Tony pointed out. He was eating dried blueberries out of a bag and between mouthfuls he’d shake a half dozen out onto the boy’s plate. “You want a name, yeah?” The child only stared back at him blankly, chewing carefully as if he wasn’t certain what he was eating.

 

“You are not naming the boy, Tony,” Natasha insisted with a glare. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Excuse me?” Tony shot her an affronted look.

 

“Dum-E has finished running the blood work you requested, Doctor Banner,” JARVIS announced. “The data is being transferred to your tablet now.” Bruce reached for his tablet as Natasha gave Tony a meaningful look.

 

“Fine, point taken,” Tony rolled his eyes.

 

“Definitely not junior,” Clint insisted, shaking his head. Natasha nodded in agreement, glancing over at where Bucky lounged in the doorway, Steve peering cautiously over his shoulder.

 

“Steve’s father’s name was Joseph,” Bruce supplied, his attention on his tablet.

 

“What do you think of Joey?” Clint asked. The boy shrugged, glancing up at Bruce nervously.

 

“He really does not like you,” Tony observed.

 

“Can you blame him after the way they treated him?” Bruce demanded, frustration leeching into his tone.

 

“It is the custom on Asgard to name children after an honored shield brother,” Thor suggested.

 

“You can cross ‘Chester’ and ‘Abraham’ off the list,” Clint insisted, pulling a face. “He’ll get beat up.” 

 

“Howard,” Bucky suggested, the boy looked up at him nervously and Barns gave him a wink. Tony only rolled his eyes.

 

“James,” Natasha stated.

 

“Oh for the love of,” Bucky began but she cut him off with a sharp glare.

 

“We could call you Jamie,” she continued, tilting her head to make eye contact with the boy. “Would that be all right?” She turned her eyes back on Steve who was watching the child with an agonized expression. He gave a sad nod, dropping his gaze.

 

“Jamie,” the boy tried the name out carefully as if he could taste it on his tongue. He looked up at Natasha with wide eyes. “yeah.”

 

“I’m Tony,” Stark said, holding out a hand to the child and shaking it gently. “Nice to meet you Jamie.” The boy offered him a hesitant smile and Tony grinned back.

 

“Well, Jamie,” Bruce gave him a warm look as he set aside the tablet. “There’s no sign of anything serious. Just a mild chest infection and some asthma. We can give you some medicine for that though and you’ll feel better soon.”

 

“No,” Jamie’s eyes grew wide and he scuttled away from Bruce, overturning his chair and colliding with Clint.

 

“Easy, buddy,” the archer soothed, crouching to wrap his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

 

“No!” Jamie let out a pained noise reaching for Tony, his eyes wide with fear. “You promised! You promised!”

 

“Woah!” Tony shot off of his barstool, hastily wrapping his arms around the child. Jamie let out a wail that almost instantly descended into body wracking coughs.

 

“You promised!” Jamie wheezed out.

 

“Easy, buddy,” Bucky, plucked the boy from Stark’s grasp, setting his feet on the floor and supporting his chest as he rubbed Jamie’s back. “Hold a breath, as long as you can, then let it out real slow. Don’t breathe too fast, you’ll only make it worse.” Jamie struggled to obey, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Tony looked over at Steve to find the blond hovering in the doorway, floundering after a course of action. He caught Tony’s eye and that seemed to make up his mind for him. A moment later he was kneeling on the floor beside Bucky.

 

“Jamie, look at me,” he soothed gently, cupping the boy’s face in his hands. Jamie was coughing and crying by turns and Steve smoothed his hair back. “I swear to you, I am not going to let anyone hurt you like that again. I don’t know what they did to you, but that’s not what Bruce is going to do, that’s not what anyone here is going to do to you.” 

 

“Bruce his lips are blue.” Tony declared in horror. Banner raced to the medical bag he kept in the kitchen, rifling through it desperately.

 

“Do you know how to use an inhaler?” Bruce asked, clearly unwilling to come any closer and risk upsetting the child further.

 

“I do,” Natasha, grasped the inhaler from Bruce, kneeling on the floor. She took Jamie’s chin in her hand, raising his eyes to her own. “I need you to breathe in, one good deep breath. It’ll taste strange but it won’t hurt, I promise.” She pressed the inhaler to Jamie’s lips.

 

“On three,” she prompted. Almost as soon as he breathed in the medication Jamie’s coughing eased and he collapsed against Bucky with a whimper. 

 

“See that wasn’t so bad,” Natasha soothed, pressing the inhaler into Steve’s palm and stroking Jamie’s face, smoothing his hair back. Steve stared down at the inhaler, tears stinging his eyes.

 

“You ok Cap?” Tony asked.

 

“I,” Steve’s voice trembled and he didn’t look up. “They didn’t have these when I was a kid.” 

 

“Feeling better, buddy?” Bucky asked, still rubbing Jamie’s back. The boy nodded slowly, curling into Bucky for support.

 

“We should,” Bruce cleared his throat. “Jamie should get some rest. His chest infection isn’t severe but he’ll need time to recover.”

 

“What about a hot bath?” Natasha suggested. Jamie looked back at her with a blank expression and she sighed, slipping her arm around his shoulders and gently steering him toward the door. “Come along little man, we’ll get you washed up.”

 

“Steve,” Tony crouched beside him, his hand resting on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“It’s so tiny,” Steve murmured, still staring at the inhaler. 

 

“It’s not a miracle cure,” Bruce stated practically.

 

“It might as well be,” Steve sighed. “Kids… kids don’t die of asthma any more, do they?”

 

“It’s very rare. Sometimes, if medication can’t be administered in time,” Bruce paused, shrugging. “But that usually only happens in severe cases.” No one added the obvious but Steve hadn’t missed the implication; severe cases like he’d been. And the boy _was_ him in every way that mattered.

 

“What kind of life is he going to have?”

 

“It’s hard to say at this point,” Bruce hedged. “There’s a lot we don’t know. We need to decide at some point if we want to put him though the stress of a battery of medical tests or if we’d rather deal with the problems as they come up. I… I think that needs to be your call, Steve, you’re the closest thing he has to family.”

 

“Look, whatever’s wrong, we can deal with it,” Tony declared bracingly. “I have markers in the medical community that I can call in, people I know and trust. We’ll get him the best specialists money can buy. There’s no reason he has to…”

 

“Be me,” Steve’s voice wavered as he finished the sentence.

 

“Steve, you need to take a step back from this,” Bucky insisted. “The kid’s going to be okay.” Steve ran his arm over his eyes with a sigh, nodding slowly. 

 

“Before we do anything more I think we need to convince him Bruce isn’t going to hurt him,” Clint observed. Thor nodded in agreement. “The kid’s completely freaked out by lab coats.”

 

“I will speak with Natasha and we will question his captors,” Thor offered. “They can tell us much.”

 

“I’m kind of the tip of the ice berg, guys,” Bruce offered. “We don’t know anything about him, what they’ve been doing to him, how they’ve been keeping him, if he’s had anything remotely like normalcy.”

 

“He hasn’t,” Bucky clambered to his feet, distancing himself as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Natasha will be able to tell you more, I don’t think she was much older than the kid when she entered the Red Room. They make changes to some of their training programs but it’s a safe bet that her experiences are about the same as his have been.”

 

Without a word Clint pushed himself off from the wall, striding out the door, presumably to go check on Natasha.

 

“Steve, you need to pull yourself together,” Tony coaxed, his tone without its usual bite.

 

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Steve admitted, looking up at him. Tony grasped his arm, hauling Steve to his feet.

 

“We’ll get by,” he insisted. “We always do.”

 

“Steve,” Bruce began, hesitating as he took his glasses off, cleaning them nervously with his handkerchief. “Anything you can tell us about the state of your health growing up…”

 

“I was small and I was sickly,” Steve shrugged, half choking on the words. “There isn’t much to tell really. We… we didn’t have much, mom and I.” Bruce nodded in understanding.

 

“If there’s anything you remember,” He prompted. “It might help.”

 

“I fear more for his heart than for his lungs,” Thor shook his head. “he has the bearing of a warrior who has faced down too many horrors. It is disturbing to see in one so young.”

 

“Do you suppose he can get over something like that?” Steve asked softly.

 

“I know not,” Thor admitted when the others were silent. “But there can be no helping him if we do not try.


	4. He could not see which way to go

“Here, look,” Natasha held the boy’s hand out, gently blowing the cloud of soap bubbles from his palm. Jamie smiled softly, his eyes bright as he watched the bubbles drift down to the surface of the water.

 

“All this time I’ve known you and I never pegged you for a bubble bath girl,” Clint declared, leaning on the door frame. Natasha looked over her shoulder at him with a coy expression before turning back to the boy.

 

“It was actually one of the first experiences I ever had that wasn’t an order or a mission or part of some task,” She admitted. “It was right after I escaped. I thought he might find it soothing.” She gave a slight shrug and Clint was sure there was more to the story. 

 

“You having fun, buddy?” Clint asked, stepping cautiously into the room, telegraphing his movements so as not to startle. Jamie looked up at him with wide eyes.

 

“Fun,” Natasha looked into his face with an inscrutable expression. “Is when something makes us smile or laugh or sometimes just feel comfortable and safe. It can be a bit hard to understand at first.”

 

“Like when, at the end of the day they’d lock me in my room,” Jamie offered hesitantly. “and I knew it was over and I could sleep.”

 

“No,” Clint began, shaking his head.

 

“Yes,” Natasha cut him off before he could go further. “yes, that feeling is fun. There are a lot of things that feel that way.”

 

“If that’s his idea of fun we need to do something about that,” Clint protested sourly, sinking down on the bench in front of Natasha’s makeup table.

 

“You need to take frame of reference where you can get it, Clint,” Natasha insisted practically before turning back to the child. “Don’t you let him trouble you, he’s just a big kid and he sulks when the other kids don’t want to play his games.”

 

“Thanks, Nat,” Clint rolled his eyes but didn’t argue as Jamie looked up at him with a wide eyed, searching expression.

 

“I think you’re clean,” Natasha observed. “Time to get out.” She pushed herself to her feet and Jamie obeyed instantly, offering no protest as she wrapped him in a soft, warm towel.

 

“Spiderman pajamas?” Clint asked skeptically, pulling them off the counter.

 

“They were all I could find available on short notice,” JARVIS declared, clearly put out. “Apparently Captain America and Iron Man are perpetually out of stock.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care,” Natasha observed, draining the tub and tossing clothing in the laundry chute as Clint pulled the shirt over Jamie’s head.

 

“We’ll get you some Hawkeye PJs,” Clint said with a grin. “You’ll look great.”

 

“Hawkeye’s an Avenger,” Jamie stated seriously, his expression betraying no sign of emotion as he tugged on the pajama bottoms. “If we don’t eliminate them, they’ll destroy us.”

 

“Well shit,” Clint gaped at him.

 

“Clint,” Natasha’s tone was soft but warning. 

 

“But,” He looked up to find her slowly shaking her head. 

 

“He’s six, and he’s not well,” she pointed out. Clint sighed. His attention returned to Jamie who was staring at him with a worried expression.

 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that kiddo,” Clint soothed, running his fingers though the tangled mop of the boy’s hair. “It’s going to be okay.” Jamie fidgeted nervously and Clint hesitated a moment before reaching out and taking the boy’s hands in his, squeezing them gently.

 

“Jamie, you can talk to us,” Natasha pointed out, pausing in her circuit of the bathroom. “I know you weren’t allowed before, but that isn’t the rule here.” 

 

“I know I’m sick but I don’t want to be in the lab or locked in my room,” he whispered. “I don’t want to be in the lab.” His eyes were large and terrified as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just said and Clint realized to his horror that the child was trembling.

 

“Hey, it’s okay!” He insisted, gently pulling the boy to his chest. Jamie stiffened, his breath skipping in a soft hiccup and Clint looked up at Natasha in panic.

 

“It’s called a hug,” Natasha explained, reaching out to let her fingers stroke the hair on the back of Jamie’s head. “It’s something friends and family do to show comfort or affection. It’s unsettling but you have friends now, you’ll need to get used to it.” Clint gaped up at her, distracted for a moment as Jamie eased into the contact until finally he was pressed into Clint’s shoulder, his small arms hesitantly trying to return the hug.

 

“That’s right,” Clint murmured, rubbing Jamie’s back as the boy huddled closer. “Feels good doesn’t it?” Jamie nodded.

 

“No one is going to lock you in your room here,” Natasha stated without emotion. “And unless you’re terribly, terribly sick we won’t keep you in the lab. That’s not what our labs are for. I know you’re confused, you’re trying hard to make sense of all of this. What you’ve known won’t help you. It’s very important for you to understand something, no one will punish you for what you say or think. The rules here are different and you’ll need time to learn them, but we’re willing to teach you.”

 

“There’s a really comfortable couch in the rec room,” Clint suggested. “I like to sleep there when I’m sick. We’ll watch cartoons and you can keep an eye on everyone, yeah?” Jamie tilted his head back to look up at Clint with a frown.

 

“Have you ever watched a television program?” Natasha asked, Jamie turned his nervous gaze on her and shook his head. Clint tried very hard not to look appalled. “JARVIS, Winnie the Pooh or Micky Mouse, please. The comedy selections from Fantasia and anything else that lacks violence or heightened emotion.”

 

“I am putting together a programing schedule,” JARVIS replied. “Would you like me to gradually introduce more intense selections?”

 

“That would be good, thank you,” Natasha nodded. “take it slowly,”

 

“Understood, ma’am,” the AI acknowledged.

 

“JARVIS runs the house,” Natasha explained. “He watches out for all of us. If there’s anything you need, you can ask him. He’ll be happy to help you.”

 

“Is he a computer?” Jamie asked his eyes scanning the room more carefully.

 

“He’s a bit more complicated than a computer,” Natasha replied. “You can ask for him in any room. You should try to rest, why don’t you let Clint take you up to the rec room?” Jamie nodded, his small hand tightening in Clint’s shirt. 

 

“Let’s find you a blanket and some juice,” Clint suggested, hoisting the boy onto his hip. Jamie seemed startled at being carried but he clung more tightly. Clint adjusted his grip, easing Jamie against his shoulder until the boy’s head was tucked under his chin. Natasha gave him a wry smile and he made a face at her over the mop of blond hair before turning toward the door.

 

Natasha tossed the last towel in the chute and shut the small door, and let out a heavy sigh, staring at the wall with a blank expression. Finally she sank down on the makeup bench Clint had vacated and closed her eyes. She stayed like that, movement arrested but for the rise and fall of her chest, for long minutes until finally she wrapped her arms around her middle and, without a sound, leaned forward, resting her forehead on her knees.

 

* * *

 

 

“He actually said that?” Tony asked in disbelief, peering around the corner of the doorway. Jamie was huddled on the end of the massive sectional sofa under Natasha’s shabby afghan, his head pillowed on the armrest as he stared in awe at Charlie Brown on the TV. With the boy settled, the resident Avengers had gathered in the kitchen, their soft murmurs drowned out by the tones of _Linus and Lucy_.

 

“Completely straight faced,” Clint nodded, pulling himself up to sit on the kitchen counter. “It was at least somewhere in the top ten weirdest things that have ever happened to me.” 

 

“It’s routine indoctrination,” Natasha remarked with a shrug. “It’s important for the agent to feel no doubt about their mission. As early as possible they’re exposed to the appropriate mind set. As far as he’s concerned the Avengers are evil and the entire world would like to see them destroyed.”

 

“I like peanut butter, the sky is blue and I’ll most likely kill you in the morning,” Clint stated with his most innocent expression. Tony shuddered.

 

“It would be best if we just don’t talk about the Avengers for the next few days,” Bucky stated, folding his arms over his chest. 

 

“We shouldn’t lie,” Steve frowned, his attention darting out to the child huddled on the rec room sofa.

 

“Just long enough for him to realize we’re not going to hurt him,” Bucky insisted. 

 

“James is right,” Natasha agreed resignedly, running her fingers through her hair. “I don’t think we can risk upsetting him right now.”

 

“He didn’t know what a hug was,” Clint stated, looking at his feet uncomfortably. Steve winced, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Natasha, I don’t want to pry,” Bruce began after a moment. “Believe me, I feel horrible for even asking this; But if we’re going to help him, we really need to know what his life has been like up to this point.”

 

“Bruce,” Tony shot him a disapproving look.

 

“He’s right,” Natasha interrupted. Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Do you remember the AIM lab in Toronto?”

 

“The one with all the small domestic animals?” Thor inquired with a scowl. Thor had taken that mission, and the vast rows of small cages filled with puppies and kittens, rather personally.

 

“It’s a bit like that,” Natasha nodded emotionlessly. Tony cringed but the others tried to keep their expressions carefully neutral. Thor was perhaps the least successful.

 

“So it’s safe to say he doesn’t know anything a normal six year old should understand,” Steve remarked.

 

“He’ll probably have a great deal of knowledge about basic technology, political science, strategy, maybe even some combat skills,” Bucky answered.

 

“This is a nightmare,” Steve murmured.

 

“Had any of you considered that you’re in over your heads?” They all looked up at Coulson’s voice to find their handler standing in the doorway with a put upon expression.

 

“Continuously!” Steve declared with a desperate expression.

 

“You don’t get a vote,” Tony accused, leveling a finger at him. “You’re having a nervous breakdown.” Clint shuffled down the counter with a grin, his knee bumping Coulson’s arm.

 

“Hi, honey,” he murmured, his fingers reaching out to gently stroke the hair at the back of Phil’s neck. If he hoped to elicit a reaction, he was disappointed.

 

“I’m on duty,” Phil reminded, his expression inscrutable. 

 

“I’m not,” Clint grinned back. Phil only stared at him in silence. Clint gave him one last grin before schooling his face into a more professional expression. “What have you got?”

 

“Some of the junior researchers were very talkative with the right amount of pressure,” Phil reported, taking the folder from under his arm and handing it to Clint who began going over it with a studious frown. “Much of it’s what we expected, they were exploring the theory that Captain Rogers had been particularly genetically compatible with the serum formula.”

 

“Any idea where they got Cap’s stem cells?” Tony asked with a frown, taking the stack of reports Clint handed to him, doling them out amongst the team.

 

“I’m confident they didn’t know,” Phil admitted. Clint seemed to consider this statement a moment before his brow furrowed in concern.

 

“Phil, how hard did you lean on them?” he asked warily. Coulson didn’t answer. Clint’s frown deepened and his hand settled on Phil’s shoulder, kneading gently.

 

“You shouldn’t allow yourself to take this personally,” Natasha admonished, scanning over one of the reports. 

 

“I’ll take it personally if I like,” Phil snapped. Steve’s head jerked up from the data he was sifting through.

 

“Phil,” he began hesitantly.

 

“This isn’t about security this time,” Phil insisted. “This is about family, it’s about a child’s future and I won’t leave that to chance.”

 

“Thor and I will be talking to the senior researcher when Medical is done with him,” Natasha stated, throwing Phil a dark look as if challenging him to argue.

 

“I shouldn’t be reading this,” Tony observed, holding out the report he’d been scanning to Bruce. He looked slightly green and decidedly uncomfortable.

 

“I’d like to act surprised,” Bucky admitted, turning over one of the pages. Steve closed the report, pressing it to Bucky’s chest and walking out of the room, disappearing down the hall.

 

“Give him some breathing room,” Tony requested, rubbing his eyes. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do… with… this.”

 

“Is that ours to say?” Thor asked solemnly. Bucky craned his neck to peer down the hall.

 

“Yes,” Natasha stated. She glanced out the opposite door to check on Jamie before motioning Tony and Bruce closer to the rest of the group. Bucky stepped back from the other doorway as Clint slipped off the counter and they formed a huddle in the middle of the room.

 

“Phil, tell me what SHIELD’s going to do with him if Steve gives him up.” Bucky stated. Phil blinked at him a moment.

 

“There are several secured facilities. If I had to guess, I’d pick the one in the Adirondack mountains,” Phil answered. “It’s extremely difficult to get in and out of.”

 

“What would they do with him when they got him there?” Bruce asked with a frown. Phil hesitated.

 

“Several years ago SHIELD took a young girl into custody who had a rather unstable mutation,” Phil replied, glancing at the floor. “We converted one of the isolation wards into a recreation room and assigned a caregiver 24 hours.”

 

“Where’s this kid now?” Tony demanded.

 

“The mutation eventually caused cell damage we were unable to treat,” Phil answered. “She didn’t make it. She did get exemplarily care, I saw to that myself.”

 

“The boy poses no such danger,” Thor observed. “There would be no need to keep him in isolation.”

 

“He’d be dangerous in the wrong hands,” Bruce sighed. “I’m not sure SHIELD would have any qualms about infringing on his freedom for the greater good.”

 

“Just to be clear,” Tony folded his arms over his chest. “How much freedom are we planning to allow him here?”

 

“We can’t allow him much,” Natasha admitted. “He can’t attend school, he’d be too vulnerable to kidnapping.” Tony shuddered and she grasped hold of his elbow giving it a fierce, quick squeeze as if to ground him.

 

“There isn’t any reason we couldn’t take him to the park or the movies, though, if we all went,” Clint added hopefully. Bucky drew in a shaky breath.

 

“Provided his health holds up,” he amended softly, his brow furrowing painfully. 

 

“Dad talked about how scrawny Steve was when they first met, I just,” Tony swallowed. “I guess I always thought he was exaggerating, he was a bit of a showman.”

 

“A bit?” Phil asked incredulously. Tony shrugged.

 

“James, you have known Steven since he was a boy,” Thor stated, his brow furrowed. “He has mentioned many times that he was frail in his youth. How poor was his health?”

 

“There were a few winters there where I thought we were going to lose him,” Bucky admitted. “Maybe more than a few.”

 

“Medicine has advanced a good deal since then,” Bruce pointed out practically. Bucky bit his lip as if warring with himself.

 

“Steve would own up to the asthma because it was something you couldn’t hide back then,” Bucky admitted. “He had some heart problems too, high blood pressure, heart palpitations. He was sick constantly when we were kids, he was even in the hospital a handful of times. If his mother hadn’t been a nurse I think he’d have never made it past eight.”

 

“Did Steve ever have rheumatic fever?” Bruce asked.

 

“Yeah, he did, when he was about the kid’s age,” Bucky nodded. “Is that important?”

 

“Before antibiotics became available in the 40’s lots of kids contracted rheumatic fever from strep infections,” Bruce replied. “It’s easy enough to prevent now, but a bad case of rheumatic fever could lead to a whole host of heart problems.”

 

“Wait, Steve got heart disease as a kid from an _infection_?” Clint demanded in horror. “Why does eighty years ago feel like the dark ages?”

 

“It’s also entirely possible that his problems were genetic,” Bruce admitted. “Well we can’t know for sure.”

 

“Yeah we can,” Tony frowned. “We can test the kid.”

 

“It can wait,” Bruce insisted. “Let’s clear up the chest infection and… teach him how to play Mario Kart first.”

 

“Boys,” Natasha eyed each of them in turn, drawing their attention. “I think you’re forgetting that right now our fearless leader isn’t exactly sold on the idea of fatherhood.” The others looked around at each other uneasily.

 

“Now why would that be?” She questioned, turning a frown on Bucky.

 

“I’m not sure,” Bucky admitted.

 

“Well maybe we better find out,” Natasha stated. “Because if Cap decides that the boy’s better off in SHIELD’s care, there won’t be anything we can do to stop it.”

 

“I’m going to have to try to behave like a responsible adult,” Clint declared, appalled.

 

“You?” Tony gave him a wide eyed look. “What about me?”

 

“Cap’s had enough breathing room,” Phil stated decidedly. “Draw straws, I’m going to go check on… mini-Steve.”

 

“We named him Jamie,” Tony announced. Phil shot him a look, shucking his suit jacket and tie and opening his briefcase.

 

“Where the Wild Things Are?” Clint asked as Phil pulled an armload of children’s books from the briefcase. “Isn’t he a little old for that?”

 

“You never outgrow a classic,” Phil insisted, striding purposefully toward the rec room.

 

“Mmm mmm mmm,” Clint sighed, watching him walk away.

 

“I liked you two better when you were pining,” Tony observed.

 

“Shut up,” Natasha snapped, smacking him in the back of the head.

 

“I should contact Asgard,” Thor suggested. “Sif’s mother is a well regarded practitioner of our sciences. Perhaps she may tell us something.” 

 

“I’ll go over Coulson's data,” Natasha nodded in agreement. "You and I will head to SHIELD first thing in the morning." Thor gave her one of his half bows that always made her smile before disappearing down the hall. 

 

“I need to go over the test results,” Bruce stated as he made his way toward the other door. 

 

“You want to talk Spangles off the roof or should I do it?” Tony asked pointedly, turning to Barnes.

 

“I think he’s kind of pissed at me right now,” Bucky admitted. “And… well, I want to get in touch with some contacts and see if they can tell us anything about the kid.”

 

“I got this then,” Tony announced, leaving the room with far more swagger than he probably felt, Bucky not far behind him. Natasha shook her head. She needed to burn off some steam, she turned to Clint, ready to ask him to spar, only to find him already inches from her. Without a word he flung his arms around her shoulders, hugging her for all he was worth.

 

“I never thought about it, Tasha,” He said, he voice trembling. “I mean I wasn’t stupid, I knew it must have been bad. I could see it in your eyes. I’d seen it in mine and that’s how I knew. But I just never thought about…” 

 

“Clint,” she sighed, shaking her head as she twined her arms around him. She closed her eyes, holding him close as she stroked his hair.

 

“That was you once, wasn’t it?” He asked. “A frightened little kid who’d never had a hug or a peanut butter sandwich.”

 

“It’s in the past,” she offered in firm resolution. “I’ve put that life behind me.”

 

“How?” Clint asked, his voice wavering.

 

“You, you idiot,” She could be so gentle, in spite of, or perhaps because of her cutting words. Tender fingers stroked the nape of his neck and she kissed his temple lightly. “Phil, even Fury, though if you repeat that, I will kill you, Clint. But you most of all. You saved my life and it wasn’t hard to put away everything that had been lost when you were standing there ready to give me so much.”

 

“Is this going to be hard for you?” he asked, holding her tighter.

 

“No,” She shook her head resolutely. “Because the boy’s going to be fine. He’ll get through this and he’ll have a proper life with an actual family.”

 

Neither of them wanted to mention that that assertion all depended on Steve.


	5. Then you show your little light

“You finished with your neurotic, bipolar episode or should I pour myself a drink and make popcorn?” Tony asked placidly, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his beat up jeans. Steve looked up from where he was sitting in the middle of the roof deck, his knees pulled to his chest. The wind ruffled his blond hair and he let out an exasperated sigh before turning back to look out over the city.

 

“Really, Tony?” he demanded, his tone without malice. “Could you be more offensive?”

 

“I could certainly try,” Stark offered, swaggering across the deck and sinking down beside the other man, folding his legs in front of him. “If it’s important I might even put some effort into it.” Steve let out an undignified snort as Tony grinned.

 

“Don’t take this personally, Stark,” Steve shook his head. “But when it comes to interpersonal… communication.”

 

“I am a god of communication,” Tony puffed out his chest.

 

“I was going to say you suck,” Steve admitted. Tony opened his mouth to reply and he snapped his jaw shut, making a startled face.

 

“Did you actually just say that?” he demanded. Steve blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Yeah, okay, you’re right,” Tony admitted with a smirk. “You freaked out a little bit back there and you know how that upsets Agent.”

 

“Tony,” Steve rolled his eyes.

 

“And everyone was standing around looking all tense and you know how stupid they act when they try to be supportive,” Tony continued without missing a beat.

 

“Kind of like you?” Steve asked.

 

“So I told them I’d come up here and, you know,” He shrugged. “Figured I’d save you from any awkward hugging.”

 

“Thank god,” Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes. “For a second there I thought you were going to talk about feelings.”

 

“For someone so apple pie and all American you are a real asshole,” Tony remarked, satisfaction in his tone. Steve choked back a laugh, letting his forehead sink to his knees. They sat in silence a while, the wind tugging at too thin t-shirts and the noise of the city muddling the air. 

 

“Forty-seven failed attempts,” Steve declared finally.

 

“Shit, Cap, is that what you’re going to go with all this?” Tony demanded, making a disgusted face. “A hundred pages of the worst of humanity and that’s what you’re honing in on? None of that is on you.”

 

“It’s all on me! I’m the one that let myself get talked into this,” Steve protested angrily, holding out his muscled arms. His anger seemed to dissolve as he stared at his hands, flexing his fingers, and he sagged as the tension eased out of him, his tone softening. “I’m the one who wasn’t satisfied on stage keeping up morale, I’m the one who had to waltz into Hydra’s front door and make a show of myself, and for what? Just because I…” Steve’s words choked off, his shoulders slumping.

 

“Number Forty-eight is going to be just fine, Cap,” Tony offered softly. “I know it’s shitty compensation, but it’s something, it’s something to the kid at least. He’s going to be okay.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Steve shook his head.

 

“I think I do,” Tony protested.

 

“You don’t,” Steve rubbed his eyes. “he’s been tortured, Tony, there’s no other way to say it. They’ve been torturing a kid. They made fifty kids in test tubes and they tortured nearly all of them to _death_. You don’t know that he’s ever going to get over what happened to him.”

 

“I know you,” Tony shrugged as if it were the most logical conclusion in the world. “I figure there’s got to be a lot of you in him.”

 

“He’s not,” Steve sighed in frustration. “just because they used my DNA it doesn’t mean he’s me.”

 

“No, you’re right, he’s not you,” Tony agreed, nodding. “but I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit there’s a lot of my dad in me. And I know you know that because I’ve caught you looking  right through me a time or two like you’re seeing someone else. He’s going to be okay, Steve, he’s tough. He has to be.”

 

“Because he made it this far?” Steve asked miserably.

 

“That and his old man’s the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met,” Tony smirked. Steve rolled his eyes, trying not to smile.

 

“Do you think he knows?” Steve asked, his brow furrowed. “What he is?”

 

“If he doesn't he's going to figure it out soon,” Tony allowed with a roll of his shoulders. “He's pretty sharp. We should probably tell him sooner rather than later.”

 

“Not yet,” Steve shook his head. “He's under enough pressure.”

 

“Steve,” Tony shook his head. “He’s going to see it as a lie if we don’t tell him. You would.”

 

“Just for now,” Steve shook his head. “Once he’s healthier and he’s not looking at us like he thinks we’re going to eat him and Natasha tells him we’re the Avengers.”

 

“You’re seriously going to let her tell him?” Tony asked skeptically.

 

“She knows what to say,” Steve shrugged as if that were explanation enough.

 

“You don’t do so bad yourself,” Tony countered, jostling his shoulder.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Here are some who like to run,” Phil read, an easy expression on his face. Jamie was pressed into his shoulder, staring at the page with fascination, his lips parted, barely breathing as he hung on every word. “They run for fun in the hot, hot sun.”

 

“I ran through the Kalahari once,” Clint remarked in a low voice, his chin in the palm of his hand as he hunched over the bar. “It wasn’t that great a time.” Natasha shushed him, carefully going over Coulson’s reports about the boy. 

 

“Pay attention,” she scolded, holding out a sheet of paper. Jamie muffled a rattling cough in Phil’s arm, unconsciously snuggling in closer to him and Clint smiled fondly.

 

“Am paying attention,” Clint murmured, his eyes fixed on the sofa at the other end of the room. For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, Phil reading to a kid was topping out his sexy meter. Clint liked kids, he really liked them if he were being honest with himself. As far as he was concerned, trips to children’s hospitals and charities were the biggest perk of being an Avenger. They had all the kick ass toys, well, they did once Tony Stark was done with them. He’d just never though of the whole thing as particularly good for his libido. It was a good look on Phil, it was an incredibly good look on Phil and Clint was having a hard time concentrating on anything that didn’t rhyme right now.

 

“To your job, Barton,” Natasha jabbed him in the ribs. He let out an oomph, rubbing his side. He turned to stick his tongue out at her and stopped, unconsciously sitting up straighter as he spied Steve hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, his expression shifting between pained and longing so rapidly that it made Clint a little sea sick. 

 

Natasha kicked him under the bar.

 

“Not one of them is like another,” Phil’s arm had slipped cautiously around Jamie’s shoulder, offering him a better view of the book as the boy struggled to stifle another cough. “Don’t ask us why, go ask your mother.” Jamie fidgeted and Phil glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he turned the page but seemed content to ignore it. Clint frowned, there was something in the boy’s face that gave him pause, something Coulson wouldn’t be able to pick up on from his angle.

 

“Something bothering you, kiddo?” he interrupted before he could stop himself. Natasha looked up from her paperwork as Phil frowned, tilting his head.

 

“Are you not feeling well?” Phil asked, careful to keep his tone soft. Jamie cringed anyway, sitting up straighter as if he’d only just noticed he’d been half laying on Phil.

 

“I,” his voice trailed off and he shook his head rapidly, his eyes darting around the room as if he were unsure where to look.

 

“It’s all right,” Phil soothed, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all right to tell us anything you need to. We won’t be angry.” Jamie opened his mouth to answer but just as quickly shut it, anxiety in his features. Phil slowly raised his hand, stroking the boy’s hair soothingly.

 

“I… I’m not supposed to ask questions without permission,” he murmured, shooting Phil a frightened look.

 

“Asking questions is how we learn,” Phil replied. “You’re allowed to ask questions here. You can ask any of us anything you like.” Jamie looked doubtful, his shoulders hunching as he pressed deeper into the sofa.

 

“Phil loves questions,” Clint remarked with a grin. “You should ask him.” Phil sighed in fond amusement, turning a gentle smile on the boy.

 

“That word,” Jamie admitted, his tone worried. “I don’t know that word.”

 

“Well there are a lot of words in here you probably don’t know,” Phil admitted sheepishly. “You’ll have to help me out.”

 

“Mother,” Jamie said softly as if he were about to be caught saying something he shouldn’t. Natasha glanced in Steve’s direction in time to see him blanch.

 

“Seriously?” Clint asked, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Three books of weird, freaky sh…stuff, and he gets hung up on that?”

 

“Clint,” Natasha snapped.

 

“Don’t worry about him,” Phil insisted as Jamie’s expression grew more nervous. “You just surprised him. A mother is…”

 

“Family groups,” Natasha interrupted, her tone business like. “families with children in them have parents whose responsibility is to take care of the children. A mother is a female parent, a male parent is called a father.”

 

“I,” Jamie paused, looking concerned. “I don’t have a family. Is that bad?”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Phil said gently, the faintest hint of sadness in his eyes. “Families come in a lot of different shapes and sizes. Not everyone has a mother or a father but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a family.” Clint sighed, pushing himself away from the bar and crossing the room to crouch in front of the sofa.

 

“I didn’t have a family either,” Clint stated, stuffing down the uncomfortable feeling his past always seemed to engender. “I was all by myself for most of my life until Phil found me. I was a lot older than you then.”

 

“How old?” Jamie asked, muffling his croupy cough in his fist.

 

“I was all grown up,” Clint admitted, gently rubbing Jamie’s knee. “I never had anyone to read to me when I was six.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. This shouldn’t bother him. It _didn’t_ bother him. But looking into Jamie’s wide, confused eyes it was difficult not to feel the weight of those years. He felt a brush against his hand and he looked down to see Phil’s fingers gently curling around his wrist. Phil’s thumb drew small circles on the inside of his arm and he pulled in an unsteady breath as he looked up.

 

“I was scared too,” Clint confessed. “I kept waiting for something bad to happen, for someone to hurt me because that’s what people do. At least that’s what I thought. I didn’t know that people could be kind, could make you sandwiches and read you stories. But they can, they can be so much better, you just have to get to know the right people.” Jamie stared back at him in silence, incredulity in his tear-stained eyes.

 

“Phil could read to you too,” he said finally, his voice small and uncertain. Clint couldn’t help but smile.

 

“You know,” Clint replied with a soft laugh, ruffling Jamie’s hair. “You remind me of a really good friend of mine.” He cast a look in Steve’s direction, his smile broadening as the super soldier blushed, glancing away. Jamie’s lips curled up in a hesitant smile, he let out a wet cough, his small shoulders shaking at the rattling in his chest.

 

“Did Bruce give him something for that?” Steve asked, seeming galvanized into action, quickly crossing the room.

 

“I wasn’t able to talk him into taking it,” Phil answered with a sigh as Steve knelt on the floor beside Clint with a scowl.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jamie wheezed out between coughs, tucking his face in his arm, his wide eyes on Steve.

 

“It’s all right,” Steve insisted, His brow knitting in a pained expression as he gathered Jamie against his chest, rubbing his back. “It’s all right, it’ll pass.” Jamie’s face was pale by the time his coughing subsided and his small arms tangled around Steve’s neck with a whimper. Steve tensed, a startled expression crossing his face.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve seemed to pull himself together, relaxing just a fraction. “This is the first time you’ve been really sick, isn’t it?” Jamie nodded against his shoulder and Steve let a hand settle on his blond locks.

 

“You’ve been really brave,” Steve murmured softly. “I know you’re scared. You’re not sure what’s happening. I know that some bad things happened in the lab. Nothing like that’s going to happen here. Bruce left you some medicine that will help your cough, that’s all. It won’t hurt you. Can you be brave enough to trust me and try it?” Jamie leaned back, the cant of his shoulders defeated as he gave a half nod.

 

“It might taste a little funny,” Phil said holding out the cup of bright red liquid with a coaxing expression. “try to drink all of it.” Jamie took the cup hesitantly, his expression stony as if he were steeling himself for some terrible, inevitable fate. Clint thought it would have been funny if it weren’t so sad. Jamie took a cautious sip, wrinkling his nose slightly before downing it all in one gulp.

 

“Good man,” Steve declared soothingly. 

 

“It won’t make everything better,” Phil said softly. “But hopefully the coughing won't hurt so much.” Jamie’s head sank to Steve’s shoulder, large tears trickling down his cheeks. Steve brushed them away without comment, his own expression uneasy.

 

“Are you tired?” Steve asked. “maybe you should try to sleep before dinner.” Jamie nodded again and Steve shifted him in his arms, gently depositing him on the sofa and covering him with Natasha’s afghan.

 

“Nobody’s going to hurt you any more,” Steve whispered, his fingers softly raking through Jamie’s hair. “I promise you, I’m not going to let anything like that happen again.”

 

“What do you want with me?” The boy asked, tears still coursing down his cheeks.

 

“Nothing,” Steve replied, his brow furrowing. “We don’t want anything. We just want to help, we want you to be safe. We’re not looking for anything in return.” Jamie drew in a stuttering breath that ended in a cough, though this one was much less violent. He turned his face into the pillow, curling in on himself. In moments he was asleep.

 

“You’re very good with him,” Phil observed. Steve’s expression steeled and he turned to look at Natasha.

 

“He responds well to you,” Steve observed. “Better than most of the rest of us. Is it because you know what to say to him or is it,” Steve’s voice trailed off helplessly.

 

“Were you about to point out that all of the scientists we found in the main lab were male?” Natasha asked, a flicker of amusement in her expression.

 

“I might if it wouldn’t get me killed,” Steve answered, pushing himself off the floor with an apologetic expression.

 

“It might be a factor,” She admitted shrewdly. “Hydra always has been a bit sexist. From what I can tell of the data I’ve gone over so far, they modeled their program heavily on the Red Room. And the Red Room felt that women were too… sympathetic in the early programing stages.”

 

“So he probably hasn’t known many women,” Steve questioned. 

 

“Sound like anybody you know?” Clint asked curiously, sitting on the arm of the sofa with a smug look. Phil elbowed him in the ribs.

 

“They’ve had him since infancy,” Natasha observed. “It’s likely his early caregivers were female. He probably doesn’t have many memories of that but he also wouldn’t be as naturally mistrusting of females.”

 

“I’m going to go down to the lab and talk to Betty,” Steve decided. “Maybe she and Bruce can work something out. If he’ll let her close enough to actually examine him.” He shrugged, looking down at Jamie.

 

“It’s not ideal,” Phil agreed, nodding. “But it’s better than the situation we have.”

 

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Clint nodded at the doorway. “Go.” Steve gave him a sharp tilt of his head and disappeared down the corridor.

 

“That might have gone better,” Natasha observed drily, returning her attention to the paperwork she’d strewn over the bar.

 

“Hey, he actually touched the kid,” Clint defended. “Under the circumstances what were you hoping for?”

 

“Clint’s right,” Phil sighed, sinking further into the sofa as Clint kneaded the back of his neck. “For whatever reason he’s making Steve incredibly nervous.”

 

“You noticed that too?” Clint’s lips turned down in a frown.

 

“Hard to miss,” Natasha pointed out. “And that alone should be alarming. When was the last time you saw Cap that unsure of his footing?”

 

Clint cringed. They all knew the answer to that question, and no one liked to think about it. Recovering the Winter Soldier had been a monumental relief to both Steve and Natasha. The deprograming, that had left Steve nearly as traumatized as Bucky. Even after Bucky’s release from containment Steve had walked on eggshells, creeping around the tower and hovering over his childhood friend as if frightened he might break at any moment.

 

“I’ve never known him to actually be nervous around a kid,” Clint admitted. “Steve’s usually the most popular at the children’s hospital tours. They just latch right on to him and drag him down to their level.”

 

“They like you too, Clint,” Natasha half teased. “Especially when you play video games with them.” 

 

“I’m just saying,” Clint shook his head ruefully. “It’s weird.”

 

“He’ll pull it together,” Phil stated with conviction. Natasha hummed noncommittally in reply, her eyes drifting to Jamie with a sad expression.

 

“He better,” she observed finally. “before anyone else manages to get attached.”


	6. When the blazing sun is gone

“What is that smell?” Darcy trudged into the kitchen, her tablet clutched to her chest as she ran her fingers through her rumpled hair.

 

“It’s either the mac and cheese or the baked apples,” Clint replied, peering into the oven.

 

“Seriously?” She asked with a grin, setting her tablet on the counter and flopping into one of the bar stools with a sigh, twisting her sneaker clad feet as if to work out the kinks. “what comfort food lottery did I win to get this smorgasbord of calories? Hey little dude.” She turned a grin on Jamie who was curled up in the bar stool beside her, his knees pulled to his chest and Natasha’s afghan wrapped around him.

 

“Jamie’s not feeling well,” Clint answered, taking up his knife and returning to chopping vegetables. “And for the record, I am making salad.”

 

“Hey, I’ve been to college where I lived on pop tarts and pizza, I am not complaining,” Darcy stated seriously, stealing a tomato slice.

 

“This is Darcy,” Clint explained, turing to Jamie. “She’s a little weird, but she’s pretty cool.”

 

“I’m trying hard not to be offended there, Gun Show,” Darcy reached out, poking him in the arm. Clint threw Jamie a conspiratorial look but the boy only glanced at his feet.

 

“So how’d you end up as Supernanny?” Darcy asked, picking at the salad as Clint continued to carve up peppers.

 

“Busy day,” Clint shrugged. “Everyone else had responsibilities. So Jamie and I volunteered to fix dinner.”

 

“You letting this old man boss you around, kid?” Darcy asked teasingly. Jamie didn’t respond, fidgeting in his chair.

 

“Talkative,” Darcy observed turning back to Clint. “Need any help?”

 

“Dishes,” Clint nodded at the table. Darcy pushed herself off the barstool, rattling around in the cabinets, piling dishes and flatware on an empty corner of the counter.

 

“Barton, who let you cook?” Natasha demanded as she Bucky and Thor wandered into the kitchen, all three of them clearly fresh from the gym. Clint pointed at Jamie with wide eyes and Natasha slapped his hand, drawing a faint smile to the boy’s face that he quickly hid.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting beside him in the chair nearest the wall. Jamie shrugged, pulling his afghan around his shoulders more tightly.

 

“Is Jane not with you?” Thor asked Darcy with a frown, grabbing a Gatorade out of the fridge and downing most of it.

 

“She and Tony got into it again,” Darcy answered with a shrug, laying napkins out on the table. “Something about a subspace array.”

 

“They're building another super sci-fi telescope?” Bucky asked curiously, running his fingers though shower damp hair.

 

“This ones supposed to collect some sort of radio data and let us know if anyone else shows up on earth thinking with portals,” Darcy explained, stacking salad bowls on the end of the breakfast bar.

 

“Most fortuitous,” Thor remarked, turning off Clint’s beeping kitchen timer and opening the oven.

 

“Considering last time we broke Greenwich,” Darcy agreed. Bucky jostled her arm, making a cutting motion with his hand and then jerking his head in Jamie’s direction.

 

“Macaroni and Cheese!” Thor declared happily, bright red lobster-printed oven mitts on both hands as he pulled a pan from the oven. “Most excellent!” Jamie let out the faintest giggle, biting his lip when Natasha shot him an amused look.

 

“Jane I'm not saying I don't respect you're resourcefulness,” Tony insisted as he trailed after the astrophysicist. Jane stomped into the kitchen with a scowl, marching straight for the fridge. “I'm saying this is Stark Industries and there's no reason to build this thing out of a coat hanger and tinfoil.”

 

“And I'm saying,” Jane turned on him, Coke bottle in hand. “I had a working prototype with these materials that I spent months adjusting for calibration. It works and I don't see any reason to introduce random variables that'll upset the previously established baseline.”

 

“Gold is not a random variable,” Tony protested, looking slightly cowed by the woman who was a full head shorter than he was.

 

“More isn't always better, Tony,” She answered, jockeying past him and grabbing a plate from the stack on her way to the oven. 

 

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that because that's just crazy talk!” Tony declared, horrified.

 

“That’s Jane,” Clint explained to Jamie as he jabbed the tongs into the salad bowl. “Don’t let her size fool you, she’s terrifying.”

 

“Eat, young one,” Thor declared, placing a plate of mac and cheese in front of Jamie with a warm smile.

 

“I’m going to need a bigger table,” Tony stated, looking around the room and then at the chairs surrounding the kitchen table. “JARVIS, order something.”

 

“Shall I consult miss Potts?” JARVIS asked, disapproval in his tone.

 

“What?” Tony asked, heaping mac and cheese onto his plate and collapsing at the table. “No, I can pick out a table in my own house.”

 

“You really can’t,” Bruce remarked as he and Betty meandered into the kitchen, Steve not far behind them. 

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tony admitted sullenly. “JARVIS?”

 

“I shall contact Ms Potts directly, sir,” JARVIS answered.

 

“Make room, kid,” Bucky ordered a hint of teasing in his tone as he picked Jamie up, settling him in his lap as he appropriated the boy’s chair. Jamie looked up at him a bit warily before returning his attention to where Bruce, Betty and Steve were filling their own plates.

 

“That’s Betty,” Clint said, spooning baked apples into a bowl and setting it in front of Jamie with a glass of juice. “You met her earlier. She’s the brains around here.”

 

“You are a traitor and I’m not making you any more toys,” Tony huffed, glaring at Clint.

 

“Tony would be the brains but he keeps forgetting to sleep and setting fire to his lab,” Bucky added with a smirk, digging into his own dinner with a voracious appetite.

 

“Fellas,” Steve scolded, shaking his head as he took the seat at the end of the bar next to Bucky, shifting Bucky’s plate out of the way to make room for his own. Bucky ate some of his apples in retaliation but Steve pretended not to notice. “Where’s Phil?”

 

“He’s running late, I’ll save him something,” Clint replied, turning back to Jamie. “Ok, I know you remember me and Phil and Natasha. We’ll go around the room one more time so you have everyone’s names. The guy with fish on his hands is Thor.” Thor looked up from the oven where he’d just removed a second tray of mac and cheese and waved one oven mitt clad hand.

 

“Your seat cushion there is Nat’s boyfriend, Bucky,” Clint continued.

 

“I’ll kill you, Barton,” Natasha warned, violently stabbing her macaroni. Clint ignored her.

 

“Bucky’s best friend Steve,” he continued without missing a beat.  “Betty and Bruce, Thor’s girlfriend, Jane, Darcy and we all live here at Tony’s place.” Jamie looked cautiously around the room, his fork dangling from his mouth.

 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked guardedly. Jamie hunched his shoulders in a half shrug, his eyes falling to his plate. He speared a couple of macaroni into his mouth, chewing slowly. Clint leaned forward, folding his hands on the counter and resting his chin on them so that he was looking up into Jamie’s face.

 

“Too many people?” he asked softly. Jamie shook his head, chasing a baked apple around the rim of his bowl.

 

“He’s pretty warm,” Natasha observed, her hand brushing Jamie’s forehead as she ran her fingers through his hair. Jamie sagged into Bucky just a bit, his fork clattering to his plate.

 

“Come on, you need to eat,” Bucky coaxed, abandoning his own dinner to scoop up a fork full of macaroni from the boy’s plate. “Don’t you like it?”

 

“It’s good,” Jamie murmured, taking the offered bite.

 

“I know you’re tired,” Steve’s voice was gentle. “you need to keep your strength up. Has he had anything other than half a peanut butter sandwich today?”

 

“He had a couple of juice boxes,” Clint shrugged. 

 

“Try to eat,” Bucky soothed, spooning up more mac and cheese. “It’ll help.” Jamie sighed, but he didn’t protest when Bucky attempted to feed him.

 

“What did we find out today?” Steve asked, glancing around the room.

 

“That Hydra’s a shipping crate of dicks?” Tony asked with a glower.

 

“Tony!” Steve groaned, jerking his head in Jamie’s direction as Clint stifled a snicker.

 

“I ran the blood work and the throat cultures,” Betty gave Tony a withering look before turning to Steve apologetically. “The viral strain he’s carrying is one we use in the lab, you don’t generally find it out on doorknobs and countertops.”

 

“They infected him on purpose?” Steve looked slightly ill at the thought.

 

“It’s consistent,” Natasha admitted, picking at her dinner. “The labs are sterile environments. Subjects are introduced to infections to improve their immunity.”

“It could be sloppy lab conditions,” Tony pointed out with a shrug. “It’s hard to say.” Natasha nodded in agreement. Steve rubbed his eyes, his expression pinched.

 

“Did you find anything else?” he asked finally.

 

“Bad asthma,” Bruce replied. “but we kind of knew that already.”

 

“We put together a little cocktail of decongestants and immune boosting vitamins,” Betty added. “It should help with the symptoms, the best thing for him right now is sleep and plenty of fluids.”

 

“Phil’s calling in some markers,” Clint offered, settling next to Tony at the table and popping open his coke as he tackled his dinner. “Thought we might be able to find out something about the background of the research team, follow the money, maybe find out what they were up to.”

 

“It won’t hurt,” Tony reasoned. “We’ve gone over most of the data from the lab, the only thing we’ve been able to tell for certain is that they’re assholes.”

 

“And that they’re sloppy,” Jane agreed as Betty nodded. “The documentation is completely inadequate.”

 

“You realize you’re moaning about the lack of record keeping on torture, right?” Darcy asked drily.

 

“If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a sloppy terrorist,” Tony remarked. Thor stifled a chuckle.

 

“That feels like a slight,” Bucky stated, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he leaned over the back of his chair to glare at Stark.

 

“Because you leave your socks all over the floor?” Tony shot back.

 

“That was a slight,” Thor declared proudly, pointing at Tony as both he and Clint struggled not to laugh.

 

“Could we get back on task, children?” Natasha asked.

 

“Why does dinner with all of you always feel so much like a fraternity house?” Steve lamented, shaking his head.

 

“No toga parties,” Betty insisted, pointing at Tony.

 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted, his voice tight. Steve’s head whipped around, his eyes growing wide as they fell on Jamie. The boy had gone limp in Bucky’s arms, glassy eyes staring up at him.

 

“Bruce!” Steve reached out, pulling Jamie to his chest and rushing around the table. Jamie recoiled from Bruce’s outstretched hand though he made no other movement.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Bruce pleaded, his fingers seeking out the boy’s pulse. “I swear I’m not. JARVIS, vitals!” A holo-display burst to life over them and Bruce gritted his teeth.

 

“He’s okay,” he assured, though he looked rattled as well. “His fever’s gone up but everything else is still normal. When was his last does of medicine?”

 

“Around three?” Clint answered with a frown as Betty hurried into the rec room.

 

“Three twenty,” Phil answered his brow furrowed as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Steve looked down at Jamie who was flinching nervously, his helpless gaze returned to Bruce who was backing off in frustration. 

 

“It’s a little early but we need to get that fever down before it gets any higher,” Bruce sighed as Betty returned, cracking the bottle open and holding out the dosage cup. Tony stood, taking it as she measured it out.

 

“What do we do?” Steve asked, his shoulders tense.

 

“The medicine will help,Steve,” Tony answered calmly. “Jamie, look at me.” Jamie blinked slowly at him, his expression glazed over as Tony gently ran his fingers through the boy’s hair

 

“I need you to swallow,” Tony soothed as Steve shifting his grip on the boy so that Jamie was more upright against his chest. “Nice and slow, drink it all down. That’s it.”

 

“He’s shivering,” Steve observed as Tony handed the empty cup to Betty and took the cold cloth Jane held out to him, placing it on Jamie’s forehead.

 

“We need to bundle him up and try to get the fever to break,” Bruce instructed. “Someone needs to stay with him.”

 

“I’ve got this,” Steve nodded, moving toward the rec room.

 

“I’ll get the door,” Tony followed.

 

“He’ll need another dose at eleven,” Betty instructed, handing the bottle to Tony as he passed. He hurried to catch up with Steve who was already half way up the stairs, his shoulders stiff.

 

“JARVIS, increase the temp in Steve’s guest suite by three degrees,” Tony ordered. 

 

“Right away, sir,” the AI answered, his tone much softer than usual.

 

“His color’s not good,” Steve observed as Tony opened the door to Steve’s suite, hurrying across the sitting room to open the door to the second bedroom. The room was neat and precise and didn’t look as if it had been used since the day they had brought Bucky home. Tony set aside the cough medicine and turned down the bed clothes. Steve gently deposited Jamie in the middle of the bed, bundling him up along with the afghan. Jamie stifled a whimper, huddling down into the pillows, his fevered eyes slipping closed.

 

“Thanks,” Steve offered, slumping into the chair beside the bed as Tony tossed a spare blanket over the bed, sinking down on the edge of the mattress so that he was facing Steve. 

 

“I took a look at all of Bruce and Betty’s data,” Tony assured. “It’s a nasty strain but it isn’t anything modern medicine can’t handle. The kid’ll be fine.” 

 

“I know,” Steve nodded. “It’s just… it’s hard for me not to panic. I’ve seen how these things go bad.” Tony nodded in understanding.

 

“I can sit with him a couple of hours and you can get some rest,” Tony offered.

 

“It’s fine,” Steve shook his head. “I don’t really need that much sleep. I can handle it.”

 

“I know,” Tony answered, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to handle it alone.” Steve looked up at him with a pained expression.

 

“I didn’t want…” his voice trailed off, his shoulders slumping. “When this, the Avengers, started we were all a mess and now, finally, everyone’s in a better place, even Bucky. None of it’s been easy and I just… I didn’t want to take all that and throw it away.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Tony insisted. Jamie let out a cough and Tony shifted, pulling the blankets more snugly around him. He turned back to Steve with a sigh. “Whatever else, he’s family to you, Cap. And that makes him family to the rest of us. I know you don’t like leaning on other people, I don’t like it either. But he’s just a kid, and he’s had it rough. He’s going to need all the help he can get.” Steve let out a long sigh, settling back in the chair and closing his eyes. Tony waited. He wasn’t a patient man by nature but as time passed he’d come to find it was almost easy with the Avengers. 

 

“I’ve been telling myself it’s any other mission,” Steve whispered so as not to disturb the boy who had fallen into a fitful sleep. “That we’re doing what’s necessary to keep Hydra from building more super soldiers. I can ask the rest of you for that because it’s our job.”

 

“It’s more than that to you,” Tony insisted.

 

“But I can’t let it be more than that to the rest of you,” Steve countered.

 

“Why?” Tony demanded. Steve gave him an incredulous look and Tony scowled. “Don’t you dare. The rest of the team, fine. But this is me! How many times have you held my shit together when the PTSD got out of control?”

 

“That isn’t your fault,” Steve shook his head. “If anything it’s mine, I’m the team leader and I put you in situations I shouldn’t. It’s my responsibility to clean it up.”

 

“Bull shit,” Tony protested. Steve frowned, waving a hand at the bed. Tony rolled his eyes. “You did not order me to get shot out of the sky over the Atlantic last month. You’re the one that pulled my metal clad ass out and then when I went bonkers you’re the one that _got shot_ stopping me!”

 

“It was a graze,” Steve shrugged.

 

“That is the most weak ass argument I have ever heard and I’m not dignifying it with a response,” Tony frowned. “So if that’s the best you can do, I’m going to sit here while the kid sleeps and then I’m going to go downstairs and wake up Barns and he can sit here a while, because I don’t know what the hell your problem is but you have one, and until you decide to come clean, I’m making it my problem.”

 

“Tony,” Steve ran a hand down his own face, looking up with a defeated expression. Jamie let out a wet cough and Tony turned again. 

 

“Easy, kid,” he soothed, rubbing Jamie’s chest. Jamie’s hand grasped hold of the sleeve of his henley, holding tight. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” Tony pried the small hand free, folding it in his own. “It’s okay, we’re not going to leave you alone.”

 

“We’ll be right here while you sleep,” Steve assured, leaning forward in the chair, his elbows resting on the mattress.

 

“Am I going to die?” Jamie asked softly his fevered eyes straining to focus on them. Steve blanched, sitting back, but Tony only smiled, shifting to fold his legs in front of him so that he was facing the boy.

 

“No you’re not going to die,” Tony answered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re just really sick. People get really sick sometimes. It kind of sucks. But it’ll be over before too long and then you can go back to being a normal, obnoxious six year old.”

 

“The other subjects all died,” Jamie stated, his voice wavering.

 

“Yeah, we know,” Tony nodded. Jamie looked at him worriedly. “Did you know any of them?” Jamie shook his head.

 

“The technicians said it a lot,” he replied, the words the slightest bit slurred as if he’d not used them much. “The doctors sometimes too. They said it was too hard to keep us alive.”

 

“Well that’s because they were lazy and they didn’t take very good care of you,” Tony declared with a frown. “Listen, I know you don’t trust us, and I’m not saying that’s bad. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but you’re not going to die.”

 

“I’ll believe you if I don’t die,” Jamie stated. Tony choked back a laugh, smoothing the hair away from Jamie’s eyes. 

 

“That’s a deal,” Tony replied, winking. “I’m going to hold you to that deal, alright?”

 

“I don’t want to die,” Jamie murmured.

 

“Nobody wants you to die,” Tony caressed his face. “Try to sleep. Somebody will stay with you all night, just in case you need something.” Jamie closed his eyes, his small hand gripping Tony’s fingers. His breathing evened out and Tony released his hand, wrapping it around Natasha’s afghan before looking up at Steve.

 

“Do I need to talk you down too?” he asked in amusement. Steve stared back at him with startled blue eyes for a long moment before shaking his head in silence and settling back in the arm chair, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.

 

Tony sighed, pushing himself off the end of the bed. He crossed the room to the desk in the corner, pulling out the chair.

 

“Jarvis, pull up the schematics on the new repulser boots,” Tony whispered, his fingers dancing over the holo-image as it flickered to life. “And let us know if the kid wakes up.”

 

“I’ll monitor his vitals, sir,” JARVIS confirmed in low tones. Tony settled in, his attention returning to his work. It was going to be a long night.


	7. As your bright and tiny spark

“Master Thor,” JARVIS’ low voice was barely more than a whisper in the quite room. Thor blinked, squinting at the daylight that crept in through the draperies. 

 

“Yes, JARVIS?” he prompted, the fingers of one hand rubbing firmly over his eyes and face.

 

“Master Jamie’s respiration and heart rate have been steadily increasing over the last fifteen minutes,” JARVIS answered. “Based on his readings over the course of the night I predict a seventy-two percent chance he will wake with respiratory distress in the next ten minutes.

 

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Thor nodded, running his fingers over his scalp and tousling his long blond hair. He stretched slowly, rolling one shoulder and then the other before leaning forward in the arm chair, his elbows on his knees as he watched the child sleeping in the bed beside him.

 

“How did it go?” Thor looked up from his vigil with a kind smile as Bruce appeared in the doorway. 

 

“He has slept but fitfully,” Thor acknowledged. “Though he is not so fevered as he was.” Bruce stepped a little closer, his eyes glancing over the readings that sprang to life in the air over the head of the bed. He gave a firm nod, looking over the rest of the room with a frown.

 

“Steve’s not here?” he asked. Thor’s lips curled in amusement and he looked down at his side, Bruce shifted a few paces, a faint smile on his own face as he spotted Steve, stretched out on the floor beside the bed, his head pillowed on his arm.

 

“He was reluctant to leave, but I pressed him into resting,” Thor admitted a bit sheepishly. Bruce nodded knowingly, his attention returning to the readings on the holo-screen.

 

“I better get out of here before he wakes,” Bruce observed bitterly. “I just wanted to make sure he was all right.”

 

“You should not take his disfavor so to heart, my friend,” Thor stated gently. “The boy is only frightened, in time he will come to regard you as we all do.”

 

“It’s not that,” Bruce shook his head, letting out a huff that sounded half like hollow laughter. “When I was… traveling I took a lot of different names. But I eventually learned to begin all of them with ‘Doctor’. It afforded me a lot of respect and care, most of all from the poorest and most desperate of places. That name granted me safe passage though areas a foreigner wouldn’t normally be welcomed. Even in places where no one spoke English, the youngest children knew that name. They trusted me, they put their faith in me. Here on earth doctors take a vow, a scared oath, to do no harm.”

 

“It is the same on Asgard,” Thor nodded in understanding.

 

“That anyone would make him fear that name is so repugnant,” Bruce shook his head, dispelling his anger like drops of water after a hard rain.

 

“I understand well the grief of honor tarnished by the misdeeds of another,” Thor assured. “The boy’s trust will be mended, we will all see to it.” Bruce nodded reluctantly and Jamie let out a muffled cough. Without another word Bruce disappeared down the hall and Thor leaned forward again as Steve stirred, pushing himself up from the floor with a quiet groan.

 

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, stifling a yawn as Jamie’s eyes squinted open, a nasty cough rattling his chest.

 

“Okay,” he croaked out in a small voice. He looked around the room through watery eyes, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his pajamas.

 

“Are you feeling good enough to eat something?” Steve asked, leaning on the edge of the bed as he knelt on the floor. Jamie shrugged, pressing his face into his pillow with a sigh.

 

“I should see to my dear Jane before she loses herself in her lab,” Thor declared in amusement, brushing a gentle hand over Jamie’s head. “You should try to eat, young one.”

 

“Thanks Thor,” Steve gave him a grateful look as the Asgardian rose to his feet. Thor nodded with a smile, making his way out the door.

 

“How about I take you down to the kitchen for breakfast,” Steve suggested, slowly climbing to his feet. Jamie heaved out a sigh, struggling to push himself up and Steve reached out, turning down the covers and slipping his arms around the boy.

 

“Maybe it’d be better if you didn’t walk all that way?” Steve suggested hesitantly as he settled the boy on his hip. Jamie didn’t reply, his head sinking down on Steve’s shoulder as if he were too weak to hold it up.

 

Steve winced as he shifted his hold slightly, heading out of his suite and down the hall, too thin arms and legs clinging to him, so fragile the slightest injury might snap them. He took extra care descending the stairs and he crossed the rec room and entered the kitchen to find it occupied.

 

“Morning Pepper,” he called out, his cheerfulness sounding forced even to his own ears.

 

“Good morning Steve,” Pepper turned from the k-cup machine with her usual glowing smile. “This must be Jamie.” The boy’s head lifted only slightly but he didn’t smile in return. Pepper seemed untroubled and she leaned back against the counter with her coffee, giving them both a sympathetic look.

 

“He’s a little under the weather yet,” Steve offered, depositing Jamie in one of the bar stools. The boy immediately sunk forward, his head resting on the counter as he curled in on himself. “Why don’t we start with toast and see how you feel?”

 

“He still seems warm,” Pepper mused, her elegant hand running over Jamie’s hair. “Did you run warm as a kid?”

 

“Couldn’t tell you,” Steve admitted with a rueful look as he started the toaster. “I was sick too often to get a baseline.”

 

“Oh dear, Tony’s rubbing off on you,” Pepper teased. “That’s what you get for hanging out in the lab. Next you’ll be using ‘ataxia’ in a sentence and writing out power conversion equations.”

 

“Not a chance,” Steve shook his head with a laugh. “I don’t even know what that first word is. Anyway, I could emulate worse people than Tony.” Pepper stared at him in silence for a long moment.

 

“How?” she asked finally. Steve let out a laugh. As if on cue Tony appeared in the doorway from the hall, his hair on end and his band t-shirt covered in grease.

 

“Oh god, you’re both laughing in the kitchen together,” He observed, wide eyed and a touch frantic. “What did I do? No, wait, when did you get in?” he directed the last question at Pepper and she smiled.

 

“Last night while you were in the lab,” she answered, grasping hold of the front of his t-shirt and pulling him closer.

 

“I had a thing come up,” he replied, his tone softening until it was just a hint breathy. “You know I’m filthy, right? Just wanted to put that out there.”

 

“Yes, you are,” Pepper agreed teasingly. “You’re also covered in dirt.” Tony waggled his eyebrows, leaning into her.

 

“Yeah, kids in the room you two,” Steve reminded, rolling his eyes as he set a plate in front of Jamie with a single slice of buttered toast. Tony blinked several times as if the entire idea of a child in the tower was a shock to him. Finally he took a half step back from Pepper, turning toward Jamie.

 

“So, not dead then?” Tony asked with a smarmy grin.

 

“Tony!” Pepper declared, aghast as Jamie stifled his giggle.

 

“It’s fine, Pepper,” Steve insisted, the faintest smile twitching at his own lips as he filled a glass with juice. “It’s a bit of a joke.”

 

“Holding you to it,” Tony added, pointing a finger at Jamie.

 

“Ok, this is Cran-Raspberry juice,” Steve declared, setting the glass in front of the boy. “I know we’re hitting you with a lot of new things all at once, but if you find something you really like, it’s all right to ask for it.”

 

“I personally guarantee that you can have just about anything you want,” Tony agreed with a nod. 

 

“Within reason,” Steve amended.

 

“I just think it’s so utterly pedestrian that you believe reason would even come into this,” Tony smiled evilly as Steve sighed, shaking his head. Jamie nibbled at the corner of his toast, watching them warily.

 

“What about a cup of camomile tea?” Pepper suggested, moving to the k-cup machine. “Always makes me feel better. Do you like camomile?” Jamie looked up at her with tired eyes but didn’t answer.

 

“He probably hasn’t had it,” Tony shrugged, leaning over the breakfast bar. “Seriously, though, how are you feeling?” Jamie didn’t answer, instead slumping down in the bar stool.

 

“It’s okay that you’re tired,” Steve declared, pulling one of the chairs out from the table and settling into it so that he was looking up at the boy. “Sometimes when you’re sick you get so tired that it’s hard to do anything, even talk. Try to eat some toast and I’ll carry you back up to bed so you can get some more sleep.”

 

“Steve knows all about getting sick,” Tony nodded. “He was sick all the time when he was a kid.”

 

“And he turned out fine,” Pepper added, setting a teacup on the breakfast bar. “I put some honey in it, I thought it might soothe your throat. Jamie nibbled at his toast, setting it down to pick up the cup in shaky hands.

 

“Go slow,” Steve instructed as Tony stuck out a finger to steady the bottom of the cup. Jamie took a tentative sip before slowly setting the cup down. He stared at Steve a moment with an exhausted expression before letting his head fall against the backrest.

 

“Why are you keeping me here?” he asked in a small, raspy voice, staring at the ceiling as a single tear trickled down his cheek.

 

“Hey,” Steve murmured, reaching up to brush the tear away. “Jamie, look at me.” Jamie lifted his head slowly, his face contorted in a miserable expression.

 

“When I was growing up it was just me and mom,” Steve began. “We didn’t have a lot, and she had to work really hard to keep food on the table. When I got sick, she had to leave me home alone at nights and go to work. One time, I was a little younger than you are now, and I got really sick. I was really scared and asked her to stay home with me but she couldn’t. And the worst of it was, I could tell she was scared too, scared that I might get sicker while she was gone. She was about to leave and there was a knock on the door. It was one of the boys who lived in the apartment upstairs from us. I didn’t really know him but I’d seen him around. He told my mother that his name was Bucky and his mother had sent him down to keep an eye on me while mom was at work so she wouldn’t have to worry.” Jamie blinked back at him in surprise.

 

“Same Bucky,” Steve nodded in confirmation. “Bucky stayed with me all night. He stayed every time I was sick and mom had to work. Bucky looked out for me and now I’m going to look out for you. I know what it’s like to be all alone and afraid. No one should ever have to feel like that.”

 

“And when I’m better?” he asked softly, tears streaking his cheeks.

 

“We’ll still make sure you’re safe,” Steve insisted. “Whatever happens, no one is going to hurt you any more. From now on you’re always going to have someone to watch over you.” Jamie nodded slowly and Steve inched the plate toward him.

 

“Try to eat,” he pleaded. “You can’t get better if you don’t eat.” 

 

“It hurts to swallow,” Jamie admitted with the slightest hesitation. 

 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve nodded. 

 

“Is there anything you want?” Tony suggested. “Anything at all?”

 

“How do you boys manage on your own?” Pepper asked with a sigh, leaning around Tony with a bright red freezer pop in her hand. “It’s really cold so eat it slowly, it’ll numb your throat.”

 

“Popsicles, for breakfast?” Tony demanded incredulously as Jamie took the offered confection.

 

“Oh shush, they’re fruit bars,” She protested. Jamie nibbled off a corner, his shoulders sagging in relief as it hit the back of his throat.

 

“JARVIS how many more of those things have we got?” Tony asked.

 

“One, sir,” the AI answered.

 

“Order four cases,” Tony instructed. “Wait, whose are those?”

 

“Agent Romanov’s, sir,” JARVIS answered. Tony made a face that could only be described as terrified.

 

“Order and extra case and have Tasha’s name marked on it please, JARVIS,” Steve requested, hiding his smile. “And could you get a couple of cases of juice boxes please?”

 

“Might I suggest having soup delivered from the deli as well?” The AI inquired.

 

“You’re probably better at this than I am,” Steve acknowledged shaking his head. “Use your best judgment.”

 

“Always, sir,” the AI responded.

 

“He likes you too much,” Tony frowned.

 

“Don’t be jealous,” Pepper admonished, smiling smugly as Jamie systematically demolished his frozen treat.

 

“I’m not jealous,” Tony replied pouting. “And I’m not going to be in this kitchen when she finds out you gave away her popsicles.”

 

“Fruit bars, Tony,” Steve sighed, running a paper towel under the faucet and wiping the stickiness off of Jamie’s hands.

 

“Really don’t care,” Tony pointed out. 

 

“You look a little less miserable,” Steve remarked, raking Jamie’s hair back from his forehead and looking into his eyes, still glassy with fever. “Throat feel better?” The boy nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips.

 

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything,” Steve declared. “if your throat hurts when you talk, it’s ok to only talk when it’s important.” Jamie seemed to relax fractionally at this and Steve gave his hair a gentle ruffle.

 

“Hey, he’s looking better,” Betty observed, coming in through the door, Bruce hanging back on the other side of the doorway.

 

“I’m kind of concerned about your cough,” Steve stated, giving Jamie a serious look. “The thing is, it could turn into something worse than it is now, and you’d get sicker. Would you let Betty or Bruce listen to your lungs?” Jamie’s eyes darted to Bruce and then up at Betty before looking back at Steve, wide and frightened.

 

“Just listening,” Tony stated firmly, Jamie turned to look at him, panic leaching into the set of his shoulders.

 

“Bruce, give me your stethoscope,” Steve ordered, holding out his hand. Bruce blinked at him a moment before fishing it out of his pocket and crossing the kitchen to Steve. He backed up a couple of paces as Steve set the ear tips in his ears.

 

“Listening,” Steve explained, holding up the diaphragm before tucking it under his shirt and pressing it to his chest. He let out a hiss, making a face. “Shhh… cold!” Jamie bit back a grin as Betty covered her mouth to silence her giggle. Steve warmed the diaphragm in his hand a moment, scowling at it before pressing it back to his chest. He made a satisfied huff after a moment and reached up to remove the headset with his other hand.

 

“Here, you try,” he instructed. Jamie reached out for the headset hesitantly, fumbling the ear tips into his ears. He blinked, his eyes growing impossibly wide as he looked up at Steve.

 

“You’re listening to Steve’s heartbeat,” Betty said her lips curling in amusement. Steve drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and Jamie stared at him in wonder.

 

“Here, listen to yours,” Steve offered as he pulled the diaphragm away, gently placing it in Jamie’s hand and guiding it to the boy’s chest. Jamie listened in fascination for a few moments, drawing in slow breaths.

 

“Can I listen?” Betty asked gently. Jamie pulled the headset from his ears, handing it to her with only the slightest hesitation and she popped the ear tips into place, settling her hand over Jamie’s.

 

“You’re still pretty congested,” She observed. “Is it all right if Bruce listens?” Jamie seemed to consider the question warily a moment before giving a hesitant nod. He edged closer to Steve, leaning into his arm as Bruce crept forward, taking the headset from Betty.

 

“I’m going down to the lab,” She informed, patting his shoulder and retreating. Jamie watched her go, distracted for a moment from Bruce’s proximity.

 

“It’s not quite as bad as yesterday,” Bruce nodded finally. “Does your chest hurt at all?” Jamie fidgeted uncomfortably.

 

“A little bit?” Steve asked. Jamie nodded. “More or less than yesterday?” Jamie hesitated again.

 

“Less,” he said finally.

 

“That’s good,” Bruce nodded, taking a step back. “You seem to be getting better.”

 

“That’s good news,” Steve pointed out, trying to catch Jamie’s eye. The boy shrugged noncommittally. 

 

“The worst is probably over,” Bruce nodded. “He should rest today and see how he feels this evening.”

 

“How much longer is he likely to be sick?” Steve asked with a frown.

 

“Hard to say,” Bruce shrugged. “We have no way of knowing when he was infected or how long he’d been sick before we brought him here.”

 

“Jamie, can you tell us how long you were sick?” Pepper asked gently. Jamie looked up at her with a hint of wariness.

 

“Few days,” he answered, his expression pinched.

 

“Do you remember what day you got sick?” Steve asked.

 

"I thought Nat told you not to interrogate him," Clint declared, shuffling into the kitchen on leadened feet, his hair sleep rumpled.

 

"We're not," Steve protested with a frown.

 

"You're asking him a lot of questions about a classified project," Clint countered, rummaging through the walk in cooler. "Sounds like an interrogation to me."

 

"He has a point," Pepper observed, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. 

 

"Yeah but it's on his head," Tony insisted rolling his eyes.

 

"We were asking him how long he'd been sick,” Steve straightened, his fists on his hips

 

“Same thing,” Clint emerged from the cooler, tugging the wrapper off a fruit bar. “All I'm saying is Tasha's going to have your head.”

 

“She's going to have yours for eating her fruit bar,” Tony pointed out, folding his arms over his chest with a huff. “I so do not want to be in this kitchen.” 

 

“She loves me,” Clint shrugged, smacking the now empty box into Tony’s chest.

 

“This is not an interrogation!” Steve’s voice rose only slightly. Clint’s only reply was to point his fruit bar at Jamie with raised eyebrows. The boy had slunk down in the barstool, his knees pulled up to his chest.

 

“It’s not an interrogation,” Steve insisted, his voice softening. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees so that he was looking up into Jamie’s face. “I’m… I’m sorry, but it’s not an interrogation. We just wanted to help. No… no more questions, all right? We’ll just muddle along without them.”

 

“Steve,” Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Just tell us if you start to feel worse, okay?” Steve’s expression crumpled when Jamie didn’t answer. “Please?” 

 

“Anthony, a large crate has arrived for you,” Thor announced, breaking the tension as he breezed into the kitchen toting a cardboard box that only barely fit though the doorway.

 

“Hot damn!” Tony rubbed his hands together in fiendish delight, crossing the kitchen with hurried steps. “Gimmie!”

 

“FAO Schwartz?” Clint’s eyes went wide as they took in the side of the box Tony was hastily carrying to the counter. “Oh, _hell_ yes!”

 

“Tony, you didn’t have to…” Steve began as Tony plopped the box on the breakfast bar in front of Jamie.

 

“Of course I did,” Tony insisted looking at Steve as if he were crazy. “What are you talking about? That’s a kid.” He waved a hand at Jamie before letting it sweep in the direction of the massive cardboard box Clint was now prying open with a pair of scissors.

 

“And this is America’s largest toy store,” He continued. “They’re in the same city, it’s like kismet! What else was I going to do?”

 

“Exercise discretion?” Steve suggested.

 

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Tony shook his head.

 

“Here,” Barton declared, holding out a floppy mass of fake fur. “Have a ‘we’re sorry for the interrogation’ puppy.” Jamie stared at it with a blank expression, his eyes darting up to Clint’s face. 

 

“Aww hell,” Clint huffed, his smile faltering. He reached out slowly, pressing the toy dog to Jamie’s chest and gently took hold of his wrist, wrapping first one arm and then the other around the stuffed animal. “It’s soft, see? And it’s good for when you need a hug but there isn’t anyone around. And he’s really good at listening, you know, if you need someone to talk to. Because you can tell him anything you want and he can’t tell anyone, he’s a 100% secure liaison.”

 

“I shudder at your childhood,” Tony announced, staring at Clint with an aghast expression. 

 

“Everyone shudders for my childhood, Stark,” Barton shrugged, returning his attention to the inside of the box. “Ooo!! RC car!!”

 

“Do not crash it!” Tony scolded as Clint pulled the bright red car out of the box. “It’s not for you anyway.”

 

“Tiny robot!” Clint fairly squealed, clambering onto the counter to dig deeper into the box. “Hungry Hungry Hippos! Super Soakers!” Clint raised his head from the box with wide eyes.

 

“There’s a marshmallow bow in here,” he whispered reverently, looking at Tony with what could only be described as adoration.

 

“There could be,” Tony admitted, looking the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I wasn’t really sure what we wanted so I got a personal shopper.” Pepper covered her mouth to stifle her laugh.

 

“I want to have your babies,” Clint declared. Bruce bit his lip to keep from laughing.

 

“And that’s where I leave,” Pepper announced making her way toward the door. “Tony, meeting at ten. Don’t be late.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” he waved her off as Steve scowled.

 

“Tony, he’s too sick for most of this,” the blond scolded.

 

“Well it’s not like he’s going to be sick forever,” Tony pointed out, leaning over the box. “Here, build something.” he fished a magnetic block set out and thrust it at Jamie who took it without thinking, staring at it mutely. Steve took in his expression and turned back to Tony.

 

“Before you say anything, Steve,” Clint interrupted, digging into the bottom of the box and holding out a one hundred and twenty box of crayons. Steve’s expression went soft, taking in the crayons longingly. 

 

“There are markers and finger paints too,” Bruce observed, peering into the box. Steve turned back to Tony who was taking him in with his most smug expression.

 

“What do you want to do first?” Clint asked, grinning at Jamie. The boy only stared back at him in confusion, his gaze straying first to the stuffed dog he was holding and then to the box of blocks and then to the crayons.

 

“Remember we talked about fun?” Clint reminded, clutching a lego deluxe set to his chest much the same way Jamie was holding the puppy. “This stuff is hella fun and I’m going to show you how to use it.”

 

“God help us,” Steve murmured, biting back a groan as he dug his fingers into his temples.

 

“It’s too late for that,” Natasha observed, striding into the kitchen and shoving a mug into the k-cup machine as Clint clambered off the counter, gathering up some of the toys in one arm and hoisting Jamie onto his hip with the other.

 

“I’m going down to the lab,” Bruce announced, shaking his head as Thor collected the rest of the toys in the box and followed Clint and Jamie out into the rec room.

 

“Don’t get started!” Natasha gave Thor a hard glare as she headed for the cooler. “We’re leaving for SHIELD in fifteen minutes.” Thor gave her a sheepish look, his smile doing nothing to placate her.

 

“Sir, delivery is here with the air hockey table and gym equipment,” JARVIS announced.

 

“Air Hockey?” Steve gaped at him as Tony blushed. “What gym equipment?”

 

“A… bike and a swing set,” Tony admitted hesitantly, waffling a moment. “And maybe a trampoline. I might have gone a little overboard.” He gave his best, ‘hey it’s me’ shrug and Steve sighed, turning toward the door. 

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve huffed, heading down the hall. “Don’t be late to your meeting. Natasha, don’t leave without me!” Tony rolled his eyes, turning to survey the kitchen.

 

“Don’t clean up after yourselves or anything!” Tony shouted into the rec room as he gathered up the bubble wrap and discarded cardboard littering the counter.

 

“What the hell happened to my fruit bars?” Natasha demanded, emerging from the walk in cooler with a dark, foreboding look. Her eyes zeroed in on Tony and he looked down at his hands to find the abandoned fruit bar box clutched in his fingers with the rest of the trash.

 

“Shit,” he hissed half under his breath, hunching back against the counter as Natasha’s eyes narrowed threateningly.


	8. In the dark blue sky you keep

“Why are you hiding down here?” Betty stood, silhouetted in the lab’s doorway, the sunlight from the hall casting a halo on her raven hair. Bruce glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but he didn’t look up from his microscope. 

 

“I’m not hiding,” he corrected. “I just got caught up in this analysis.” Betty’s long legs carried her across the tile floor with a sharp click of her heels. She stopped a foot away from him, her expression considering.

 

“He’s not going to warm up to you if you don’t at least allow him to get used to you,” She observed.

 

“This isn’t about Jamie,” Bruce replied, his tone without emotion. “he’s been horribly mistreated, he has a right to his fears. I won’t invalidate his feelings by telling him that he’s wrong, he needs to learn that for himself. And I can’t think of anyone better suited to teach him the dangers of preconception than Steve Rogers.”

 

“You know I might believe that little speech if I didn’t already know you’re down here fiddling,” Betty pointed out, her lips quirked in fond amusement. Bruce’s movements stilled and she reached out, her hands moving over his shoulders in a soothing caress too soft to be a massage.

 

“Do you want to try that again?” she offered, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

 

“I’m not safe for him to be around,” Bruce stated, returning his attention to his microscope.

 

“I find your suppositions flawed and based on outlying results, sir,” Betty countered, her tone completely professional. Bruce closed his eyes, letting out a sigh.

 

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked.

 

“You and Tony and I have worked so hard on this, Bruce,” Betty reminded sternly. “You have near perfect control of the transformation!”

 

“But not perfect,” he snapped. He drew in a slow, steadying breath, letting it out before continuing. “I can’t guarantee that an accident…” his voice trailed off and he rubbed his face with his hands.

 

“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you more than anything in this world. But I know what this is, I know what you want me to see in this. I swear to you, I would if I could, but I can never give you what you want. There will never be a day when I’m safe to be around a child.” Betty’s fingers stilled on his neck, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

 

“Bruce, you are _not_ a monster,” she declared sharply.

 

“I am,” he answered softly, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers. “Betty, that’s what you never understood; I always have been. Before the Other Guy, before all of this, that monster has been inside of me all of my life, he just has a face now. If none of this had ever happened, I still wouldn’t trust myself to be a parent.”

 

“You are not your father!” Betty insisted angrily, tears stinging her eyes. “How dare you! How dare you for one minute imply that you could harm a child. You are not capable of that kind of cruelty!”

 

“I don’t know that,” he replied, swallowing thickly.

 

“I do!” she fairly shouted at him. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling and when she spoke again there was no warble or hint of anger in her voice. “Do you honestly think I’m not afraid of being my father too?” Her arms slipped around his shoulders and she let her forehead rest against his hair.

 

“You would be a wonderful father,” she sighed. “I’m sorry you can’t see that. There has never been a time when I haven’t felt safe with you.”

 

“I could never trust myself,” Bruce whispered. “and I could never forgive myself if anything did happen. I’m going to break your heart either way, and I already can’t forgive myself for that. If this is something you need,”

 

“It’s something I want,” Betty interrupted. “And please don’t imply that I should move on with my life. I’ve tried that before, it didn’t go very well.” Bruce folded her hand in his, pressing his lips to her wrist with a pained expression.

 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered softly.

 

“I know,” she soothed, kissing the top of his head. “I know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You got babysitting duty?” Bucky asked in surprise, ambling into the rec room to find Tony sitting in the middle of the floor, half a lego castle assembled on the coffee table and holographic schematics floating around the engineer as he absently gnawed on the end of a straw from a juice box. 

 

“What?” Tony looked up from his project with a distracted expression, glancing at the sleeping child sprawled on the sofa before returning his attention to his schematics. “Barton’s in the gym and Phil’s going over SHIELD stuff… Which… you know.” Tony shrugged. 

 

“How’s he feeling?” Bucky asked, sinking to the floor beside the sofa and folding his legs in front of him, watching the boy.

 

“He plays it pretty close to the vest,” Tony answered. “He doesn’t seem as bad though. Poor kid wears out pretty fast.”

 

“I can watch him a couple of hours,” Bucky offered. “If you want to get back down to the lab.” Tony paused a moment, turning his full attention on Jamie.

 

“I um…” he seemed at a loss for words, and a teasing grin formed on Bucky’s face.

 

“I never pegged you for a sap, Stark,” he goaded good-naturedly.

 

“Shut up,” Tony rolled his eyes, going back to his plans with a derisive snort. Bucky only chuckled, his gaze shifting back to Jamie.

 

“Is he a lot like Steve?” Tony asked presently, never looking away from the holo-projections.

 

“Spitting image,” Bucky declared with a warm smile. He gave a self depreciating shrug. “I mean… Hell, you probably know what I mean.” Tony snorted in amusement.

 

“He was always so scrappy and stupid brave,” Bucky continued thoughtfully, “and… he’d get beat up for doing the right thing, and he knew he was going to get the hell kicked out of him going in. He’d do it anyway.”

 

“Some things never change,” Tony observed with a smirk. Bucky nodded, propping his chin in his hand as he watched the boy sleep.

 

“I’m kind of scared, you know?” he admitted finally. “I thought I didn’t have to worry about Steve any more, he can take care of himself now.”

 

“Don’t look at me, Barnes,” Tony huffed, his lips curling in a smirk as his fingers danced over the holo-screens. “Kids scare the hell out of me anyway.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Bucky answered with a sly smile. “We’re all buying that, you big softie.”

 

“Keep it up, Borg, and you can kiss those tactile upgrades goodbye,” Tony threatened. Bucky only laughed.

 

“Hey, if you’ve got this, I want to take a look at some notes in the lab,” Tony said a few minutes later.

 

“Yeah, sure, we’re good,” Bucky nodded. Tony pushed himself to his feet, closing down the project with a wave of his hand and walking toward the hall.

 

“I never said thanks,” Bucky added. Tony paused in the doorway. “For taking me in. I was a mess. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Don’t make it awkward Barnes,” Tony remarked with a dismissive wave. “And I kind of did, because your girlfriend threatened me.” Bucky chuckled as he disappeared down the hall. 

 

“Softie,” he shook his head in amusement.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What were you planning to do to Captain America?” Natasha’s tone was imploring her wide, grey eyes misty as she leaned over the interrogation table, her full lips parted as her red curls tumbled into her face.

 

Steve let his head rest against the two way glass, a heavy sigh easing out of his lungs as the lead scientist snarled and blustered. His eyes were raccoon rimmed with bruises and he was missing several teeth, a cut around his mouth sported a couple of stitches. All in all he looked as if he’d gone a few rounds against a cement truck and lost spectacularly. Steve’s insides ached. It wasn’t his finest moment and he wasn’t proud. In spite of that he couldn’t bring himself to regret it either.

 

Thor had propped himself in the corner of the interrogation room, his massive arms folded over his chest and a silent, menacing expression on his face. Steve had watched his teammates pull off this routine so many times it was almost predictable. Natasha played her vulnerable role to a tee, the perfect counterpoint to Thor’s impending threat. The lead scientist had already given them a full rundown on the lab’s senior staff and he probably wouldn’t be aware he’d done it until hours from now. 

 

That was one thing about a bully, they could never resist making someone else look stupid.

 

“It wasn’t about Captain America, you moron!” The scientist bellowed at her. “The serum has only ever worked on one genetic template! That stupid ass is the only shot we have at building a superior army.”

 

Steve let out a huff of satisfaction. So they had, what they thought, at least, was the original serum too. 

 

Over the last three hours the lead scientist had painted what could only be described as a horrific picture of human experimentation. They’d lost literally hundreds of clones in the processing stages. They’d lost several more in infancy to infections, probably brought on by sloppy lab conditions. The whole thing made him sick, the idea of dozens of children being subjected to draconian methods of education and indoctrination. Children wearing his face.

 

Natasha had signaled him to leave when she had delved into the conditioning methods for the infants. She couldn’t see him so he hadn’t. He rather wished now that he’d listened to her. To sit through the descriptions of child torture was bad enough, to know that, back in his own home, was a child who’d endured that treatment was beyond expression.

 

“Then why would you genetically alter the boy?” Natasha asked, confused. Steve shook his head, he’d almost believe himself that she was completely clueless.

 

“We didn’t alter him!” the scientist leaned forward, jerking at his cuffs. “We don’t know why he’s so fucking screwed up! Every single one of the subjects came out like that! At first we thought it was a fault in the process but we cloned dogs, cats, hamsters, a goddamned cockatiel! They were all fine! There’s something in the original genome, probably something in the damn serum blocking the correct cloning process. Why don’t you ask him? You’ve got the real McCoy, or is he as big an idiot as you are?”

 

“If he’s so flawed why did you keep him?” Natasha questioned.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he demanded. “One successful attempt? Of course we kept him. If nothing else to see what happens when the serum’s administered! But you put a nix on that, didn’t you? I swear to god, I’m surprised one of Hydra’s vanguard units hasn’t broken in here and stolen him back!” Natasha’s shoulders straightened.

 

“So you were going to attempt early administration of the serum in order to prevent the subject from dying like the previous iterations,” She nodded. “You’re right, there’s every reason to believe Hydra will make a play to reacquire him. Thank you for your cooperation.” Without another word she turned toward the door, striding purposefully out into the hall with Thor on her heels.

 

“What the hell?” the scientist demanded to the empty room.

 

Steve shook his head, letting out a half amused snort. It was like Tony said; candy from babies.

 

“We’re leaving,” Natasha announced, opening the door to the observation room. She gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “You listened, didn’t you?” Steve would have looked sheepish but he simply didn’t have the energy.

 

“How does anyone do something like that to an infant?” He asked instead, his expression empty as he eyed the scientist still cuffed to the interrogation table.

 

“They don’t see them as people,” Natasha replied, her tone soft. “None of us were ever people to them. Only tools.”

 

“I’d kill him with my bare hands and it wouldn’t even bother me,” Steve admitted, his eyes misting. “What does that say about me?”

 

“It says that there is a little boy in Avengers tower who’s afraid to allow people to touch him,” Natasha declared evenly. “Who’s experienced things no child should ever witness. And it says that you’re a good man for questioning your own reaction to that.”

 

“They were really going to give the serum to a child?” he asked forlornly.

 

“I think that’s what we interrupted,” Natasha nodded. “That’s probably why they had him sedated.”

 

“I wish I’d listened to Bucky,” Steve whispered. “Stayed out of the fighting. None of this would have happened.”

 

“And what would they have done to James if you had?” she asked gently, rubbing his arm. “You’ve done good, Cap, you can’t make yourself responsible for the evil others do in the face of that good.”

 

“What’s Fury going to do with him?” Steve asked finally.

 

“Nothing as cruel as what he’s done to others,” Natasha replied, leaning her head on his arm. “More’s the pity.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Woah! Woah, Wait, wait! Don’t hit the wall!” Clint kept his voice low despite his tone of alarm. Jamie let out a stifled giggle, hunkering further into Clint’s lap as he tilted the remote control, the bright red RC car screeched to a halt across the room bare inches from the windows.

 

“Pepper will kill us if we dent her tower,” Clint insisted, both arms tangled around the boy so that he could steady the controller while Jamie thumbed the steering buttons. Jamie grinned, watching the car as it sped away, spinning out on the flagstone tile near the stairs and zipping off in the opposite direction.

 

“I think I’m dating a seven year old child,” Phil observed, strolling into the rec room, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants.

 

“Hey, we’re like practically the same age!” Clint declared gleefully, giving Jamie a half squeeze as the boy snickered.

 

“You should really not be happy about that,” Phil admonished, shaking his head. “Did you let him rest today or have the two of you been playing since breakfast?”

 

“Relax,” Clint shot him a look. “We played board games with Thor this morning and he had a rest and Darcy made him soup for lunch. I’m not sure what he did with Tony. What did you do with Tony?”

 

“Legos,” Jamie answered, looking up at them as the car abruptly stopped. 

 

“Typical,” Clint observed. “Then Bucky sat with him this afternoon while he slept. Anyway, he was just waking up when I got here from the… gym. So, no, I haven’t been sitting on my ass all day playing.” Phil reached out, his fingers running gently through Clint’s hair. The archer’s shoulders relaxed visibly and he eased back into the sofa with a sigh.

 

“For the record, it’s a good look on you,” Phil murmured softly, Clint tilted his head back on the couch and Phil swooped in, kissing him quickly before turning his attention to Jamie.

 

“Feeling better?” he asked. Jamie nodded, rubbing his nose on his sleeve with an awkward smile.

 

“That’s good,” Clint insisted, relieved. “Do you think we can get you checked over by the doc later? If Bruce says you’re okay we can go play with the new toys down in the gym tomorrow.”

 

“Don’t push, Clint,” Phil chided, his fingers kneading the blond’s neck. “He’s been a very sick little boy.”

 

“When I’ve been a very sick little boy I can’t wait to get back on my feet again,” Clint insisted. “What about you, kid? You ready to blow this joint and go have some real fun?” Jamie flashed him a grin and Clint wrapped him in a bear hug.

 

“Don’t wreck Pepper’s tower,” Phil ordered, heading toward the kitchen. Clint gave Jamie a wink and a moment later the red RC car was once more racing across the carpet.

 

“You’re a wuss, Stark,” Bucky taunted, stretching his shoulders as he wandered into the rec room.

 

“I want a hot shower and a couple of advil,” Tony whined. “You are a cruel, cruel bastard and I am not working out with you any more.”

 

“Wuss,” Bucky declared grinning as he too headed for the kitchen.

 

“Who still says that?” Tony demanded. “What is this 1985? Hey! What the hell?” Tony half tripped, windmilling his arms as the red car drove over his foot.

 

“Whoops,” Clint cringed as Tony glared at him. The red car peeled out, racing away as Jamie’s eyes sparkled. Steve appeared in the doorway, his eye following the car as it beat a hasty retreat under the stairs.

 

“What is that thing doing tearing donuts in my carpet?” Tony demanded.

 

“You bought it for him,” Steve was quick to point out.

 

“I bought it for the kid, not the menace,” Tony glowered.

 

“Pepper’s probably not going to be too happy with you if the carpet gets torn up,” Steve allowed. Tony threw his hands in the air, storming into the kitchen after Thor. Natasha followed him, giving Clint a signal to join them. He gave a quick nod.

 

“I’m going to go check on dinner, kid,” Clint stated, lifting Jamie of his lap and depositing him on the end of the couch, trailing after the others.

 

“You look like you’re feeling better,” Steve observed, eyeing the boy. Jamie gave him a shy smile and Steve leaned over the back of the couch, running a hand over Jamie’s head.

 

“I’m glad,” he said seriously. “I’m going to go help Clint, shout if you need anything, okay?” Jamie nodded and Steve headed for the kitchen.

 

“Why was he all freaked out when I came up from the gym?” Clint asked, his expression confused. Bucky cringed a little, glancing at Phil who had just pulled a fresh cup of coffee from the k-cup machine.

 

“Phil told him you were in training,” Bucky replied. Natasha flinched.

 

“And?” Clint prompted. “I have to practice.”

 

“Training,” Natasha shook her head. “Not the best word.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Phil frowned. Steve paled slightly.

 

“That was the word the lead scientist used,” Steve observed, the words choking off in his throat.

 

“I told you not to listen,” Natasha snapped sternly.

 

“Oh god,” Phil’s expression crumpled in realization.

 

“I smoothed it over,” Bucky insisted. “I promised him you were fine that no one had hurt you. He’s… he seems to think you’re a lot younger than the rest of us.”

 

“He thought I was being tortured?” Clint demanded. “Is that what they called it? Training?”

 

“They need an accelerated early development program,” Natasha explained, her brow creasing. “To make up for the lack of normal parental interaction. Otherwise the subjects form developmental disabilities.”

 

“Do I want to know how they figured that out?” Clint asked, horrified.

 

“Romanian orphanages?” Bruce suggested.

 

“Whatever you do, do not google that,” Tony ordered, pointing at Steve.

 

“Enough,” Thor declared, his voice low and firm. “We will not help the boy by becoming emotional over his plight. What’s done is done. We must begin to help him recover. We learned much today about the extent of their plans, we should use that knowledge to build a new life for him.”

 

“We did find out that all the others had similar health defects,” Steve admitted grudgingly. “It also seems like they didn’t infect him on purpose. They lost most of the… clones to unplanned illness.”

 

“They thought they were getting errors in the cloning process,” Natasha shook her head,  critically. “They weren’t prepared to deal with subjects with inhibited immune responses.”

 

“There’s a possibility they’re right,” Bruce pointed out. “We have an incomplete record of Steve’s health as a child. It might be prudent to test him for genetic stability. I have samples we could use.”

 

“As long as he doesn’t have to know about it,” Steve nodded resignedly. “He’s… I don’t want him to worry, he’s scared enough as it is.”

 

“He’s settling in though,” Phil observed. “He seems reasonably comfortable with Clint and Natasha.”

 

“He did good for me this afternoon,” Tony shrugged. “Darcy said he ate better at lunch.”

 

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS intoned.

 

“Hold that thought,” Tony said dismissively. “I’ll be right with you.”

 

“He’s out of the woods,” Bucky observed. “I think maybe we better tell him.”

 

“I’m not sure I agree,” Natasha shook her head. 

 

“We can’t keep up the charade much longer,” Bucky protested. “There’s going to be a crisis sooner or later. We can’t very well tell him we’re the Avengers in the middle of assembling.”

 

“Yeah, he’s not going to take it well if he bumps into me when I’m wearing the suit,” Tony observed.

 

“Do you wear the suit around the tower a lot, Stark?” Steve asked drily.

 

“I put it on in the middle of the night and hold raves in the garage,” Tony declared, wagging his eyebrows. “Iron Man has some phat moves.” 

 

“Sir?” JARVIS interrupted.

 

“Give us a minute, Jay,” Tony waved him off.

 

“I’m just concerned about how he’s going to take it,” Steve sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

 

“Badly,” Clint shrugged. “What’r you going to do?”

 

“I think it’s a given it’s not going to go well,” Natasha agreed. “We need to balance the fall out with the potential to move past it.”

 

“Which gets harder the longer we keep the truth from him,” Bruce reminded.

 

“I think we need to ask how badly this could go wrong,” Phil suggested.

 

“The child could panic, lash out, injuring himself and one of us in the process,” Thor observed.

 

“Yeah, that’s not so bad,” Steve winced.

 

“So we’ll tell him somewhere secure,” Tony shrugged. “We’ll take him down to the gym, lock it down and then say ‘hey, by the way, your new big brother there is Hawkeye and we’re the Avengers’. Plenty of room to retreat.”

 

“I love how I’m at the kiddie table,” Clint rolled his eyes.

 

“You whined because you lost at Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots,” Natasha pointed out unrepentantly.

 

“Sir,” JARVIS prompted again.

 

“Not now,” Tony huffed.

 

“If he panics there is a good chance we will need to secure him in some fashion,” Thor let out a huff.

 

“Like hell,” Steve ground out. “We are not locking him up anywhere alone.”

 

“SIR!” JARVIS fairly shouted. “Master Jamie’s vital signs disappeared from the hall powder room fifteen seconds ago!”

 

“Shit!” Tony bolted for the doorway, racing down the hall and skidding shoulder first into the bathroom door. It didn’t give and he took a step back to get a run up but before he could move Steve shouldered past him, smashing through the lock with his arm.

 

“Shit!” Clint stared over their shoulders into the empty bathroom with wide eyes. “Where the hell did he go!?” Steve drew in a shaky breath, he and Tony both scanning the small room, their eyes falling on the middle of the wall at the same time.

 

“Laundry chute!” they stated in unison, staring at each other in horror.

 

“Laundry chute?” Phil demanded. “He’ll break his neck!”

 

“He’s fine!” Tony insisted, shoving past the others as he and Steve ran for the elevator. “He’s in the laundry by now.”

 

“Where’s the laundry?” Bruce asked, wide eyed.

 

“Two,” Tony replied, wincing as Steve’s face contorted in pain.

 

“Shit,” Bucky hissed.

 

“Split up, take all the elevators, secure the lobby and the emergency stairwells!” Steve shouted as they others scattered.

 

“JARVIS, lock down security!” Tony ordered as he and Steve boarded the nearest elevator, fishing their coms from their pockets. “I don’t want anything to get out of this building without a security pass!” He looked over at Steve, the super soldier was unnaturally pallid, his breath coming in short gasps.

 

“We’re going to get him,” Tony insisted, tucking his com in his ear. Steve didn’t answer, his knuckles white as he gripped the safety rail, staring up at the floor numbers as they blinked down at frightening speed.

 

* * *

 

 

Jamie’s slipper clad feet slapped against the marble floor as he ran, his chest aching with every breath. He turned the corner from the service hallway, spilling into the crowd of people leaving Stark tower for the day, his eyes darting over uniform clad security officers. He heard the crackle of a walkie talkie and he let out a burst of speed, shouldering around two men in business suits who were heading out the door. 

 

“Hey kid!” The authoritative voice behind him rang out and he ducked, flying down the steps, between the pair of escalators, taking them two and three at a time. “Hey stop that kid!” He jumped as he neared the bottom, landing on his feet and hands and springing forward into the crowd.

 

People, so many people. More people than he’d realized could be in one place at a time. The lobby, if that’s what it was, was a mass of marble and granite and people. People hustling, shouldering each other, bumping into one another, flowing in and out of doors and down corridors. Jamie struggled to weave between them, to lose himself in the morass of bodies. He looked up at the high vaulted ceiling that stretched up above him, a swath of blue green embellished with constellations.

 

The crowd pushed him along and he chanced a look back at the stairs to see the guard scanning for him as he barked into his walkie talkie. Jamie nearly tripped as someone jostled him, falling against a woman’s hip but she seemed not to notice. He righted himself, trying to stay close to taller heads and shoulders, masking himself from pursuit. He had to get out of here, out of this place before they found him.

 

The Avengers. He’s spent the past two days captured by the Avengers.


	9. When he nothing shines upon

“Sir, a guard has spotted him at the lobby level,” Jarvis declared.

 

“Shit!” Tony let out a hiss, barreling around the corner from the laundry. “Which way did he go?”

 

“Down the south staircase into the terminal, sir,” JARVIS’ tone was nearly frantic and Tony ignored Clint’s repeated and rather uncreative swears as he hurled himself down the stairs from the second floor.

 

“I want security at every exit,” Tony barked out, running across the lobby of Stark Tower and down the steps toward Grand Central as fast as his legs would carry him. He caught sight of Steve darting though the crowds in the main concourse as Thor appeared at the top of the West staircase. “Everyone split up, we can’t let him get on a train!”

 

“James and I are nearly at Grand Central Market,” Natasha reported. 

 

“Phil and I’ll take the Metro-North lines!” Clint added.

 

“I got the MTA,” Steve answered, his tone panicked.

 

“Bruce, go with him,” Tony ordered, spotting the scientist half stumbling in his hurry down the East staircase. “Thor take the restaurant level, I’ll sweep the Main Concourse and the balcony. Jay, mobilize SI security. I want every body available, pull from the janitorial staff if you have to!”

 

“The terminal exits are secure, sir,” JARVIS announced. “Backup security en route to outlying MTA exits.” Tony tapped his com, switching channels as he struggled to cut his way through the crowds.

 

“Cap, we’re going to get him,” he stated firmly.

 

“Yeah,” Was Steve’s only reply, his breathing audible over the line as if he were winded.

 

“Steve, JARVIS is sending people to the surrounding stations, we’ll shut down the lines if we have to, JARVIS can make it happen.” Tony added bracingly.

 

“He knows,” Steve declared breathlessly.

 

“Yeah,” Tony swallowed. “he knows.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jamie ducked under the metal turnstile, careful to stay close to the woman in front of him, her phone pressed to her ear as she chattered loudly. He’d grasped hold of the end of her bag, tucking close to her and no one had taken notice of him. Least of all the woman who was now frantically complaining about the shade of pink icing on a cake.

 

His slippered feet skidded across the terra-cotta colored tile, the low ceiling seeming to press down on the swarm of passengers. He glanced up at a sign that said Uptown 4 5 6 and he choked back a rattling cough as he made a break down the staircase, dodging between people. He wasn’t sure where he was going but he had to get away from where he was before they found him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Sir, I believe I have him on Terminal security cameras,” JARVIS informed.

 

“About damn time!” Tony interrupted. “Where is he?”

 

“The Lexington line, Northbound platform,” JARVIS replied. Tony was certain he hadn’t programed in that breathless sound.

 

“Cap, Bruce, did you copy that?” He demanded, heading for the subway entrance.

 

“I heard you,” Bruce’s eyes widened and he scanned the ramp as he ran, jostling into passengers. He had to keep his heart rate down, he had to stay calm. He was only incidentally aware of Tony ordering JARVIS to lock down the trains if Jamie made it on to one. It was too crowded, too crowded to spot one small child on the run in a sea of humanity. He couldn’t think about that. He had to stay calm. He cursed under his breath, of all of them why did he have to be the closest one?

 

 

* * *

 

 

A cough rattled Jamie’s chest and he winced covering his ears at the clattering screech. A silver train was pulling away from one side of the narrow, dark platform and another had just stopped along the other side. He tried to make himself look small, hunching his shoulders as he ducked between the white tiled columns each emblazoned with a “42”. His chest tightened in anxiety and he pressed against one of the columns, peering down the dark train tunnel. If he could get on a train without being too noticeable maybe he could get away. His heart was pounding and his breath rasped. He was cold and sweaty and he had to get out of here, away from here.

 

Away from them.

 

“You lost son?” His head jerked up at the woman’s voice and he let out an involuntary squeak.

 

“No, I’m… I,” the woman frowned, brushing her brown hair back from her face and he gulped, edging away from her.

 

“Easy there, young man, I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, tucking the stray locks of hair that had fallen out of her messy bun behind her ears and giving him a faint smile. “My name’s May, what’s yours? We’ll just call security and tell them.”

 

“No,” he said quickly, distancing himself, his heart stuttering at the thought of the uniformed guards that had chased him. 

 

“Son, you’re too close to the edge,” She said sharply. “Just stay calm and move back a bit.” Jamie spun on his heel to make a dash down the platform but he’d barely taken a step before he crashed into a man, bouncing off of him like a rubber ball against a concrete wall. His foot slipped and then he was falling so slowly that the distance seemed to take forever and at the same time so fast that the ground seemed to rush toward him.

 

“Someone help!” The woman shouted frantically. “There’s a boy on the tracks!” And then he heard it, that horrible screeching rattle. He looked up from his position sprawled between the tracks, frozen in terror at the approaching lights.

 

He covered his ears against the shriek of metal, too horrified to do more than huddle into a ball. People were screaming, almost louder than the train screeching to a halt. It would never stop in time. The screaming grew louder and over and around it was the sound of a deafening feral roar. A flash of green streaked over his head, casting him in shadows and he wrapped his arms over his head with a sob. 

 

The train made a sound like twisting metal, the noise so loud his ears felt as if they would burst. Gravel from the tracks kicked up around him, scattering over his shoulders.

 

A massive green foot bumped into the toe of his slippers and he dared to peek up at the brutish form that hovered over him. He choked on a breath as a hand, bigger than his head, extended and he braced himself, tears stinging his eyes in fear.

 

“Okay?” the impossibly deep voice rumbled as the very tip of Hulk’s finger settled on his hair with remarkable gentleness. Jamie peered up at him with eyes like saucers but all he could do was nod mutely.

 

“Are you all right, is he all right?” Steve’s voice was frantic as he muscled his way through the crowd, diving to the edge of the platform and leaning over the track on his belly.

 

“Fine,” Hulk declared in a tone that seemed exasperated.

 

“Give me your hands,” Steve ordered, holding out his own. “Don’t touch the tracks, I’ll pull you up.” Jamie obeyed without thinking and Steve swung the boy into his arms, scrambling onto his feet, holding on so tight his grip was nearly bruising.

 

“Keep your head down,” Steve whispered against his ear and Jamie tucked his face into Steve’s neck.

 

“Lost kid, nothing to see here!” Tony called out, drawing attention away from them as Bucky appeared beside them, shedding his jacket and tossing it around Jamie. Natasha had already sprung to Hulk’s side, luring him away from the flash of cell phone cameras.

 

“Sorry about your train,” Tony flinched, giving the driver a look that was only half apologetic. “We can fix that, no problem!”

 

“Get him out of here,” Phil hissed out half under his breath as he passed them. “We’ve got this.” Steve’s grip tightened around the fragile body in his arms and he and Bucky bolted up the steps, scuttling to the street level as fast as their legs would carry them.

 

“Fury is going to be pissed,” Bucky declared as they joined the foot traffic on 42nd Street. Steve’s jaw ticked angrily and Jamie peeped out from underneath Bucky’s jacket, cringing but not releasing his grip.

 

“You are in so much trouble,” Bucky stated, leveling a finger at him though there was no darkness in his expression. Jamie pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder, hot tears stinging his eyes. 

 

“Not now,” Steve ground out.

 

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes.

 

“Not now,” he repeated icily. Bucky didn’t answer this time, his attention turning instead to the crowded street. He spotted SI’s security waiting for them and he threw them a signal. Almost instantly they fell into step, escorting them into the building. Steve barely broke stride as he crossed the lobby, the express elevator opening at his approach, allowing the three of them on. The moment the doors closed he set Jamie on his feet.

 

“What were you thinking?” he demanded, crouching down and grasping the boy’s arms. “You could have died! You could have got someone else killed! What if it had been Natasha or Clint and not Bruce? Is that what you want? You want, Clint dead?”

 

“Steve,” Bucky barked out harshly. Huge, frightened tears trickled down Jamie’s cheeks and Steve let out a hiss, standing to his feet and retreating to the far corner of the elevator, his forehead pressed to the wall. Jamie said nothing, his face crumpled in misery and confusion.

 

“Steve, he panicked,” Bucky reminded softly. Steve’s only answer was to slowly thump his head against the elevator wall. “He panicked and he didn’t think. And it is not the stupidest thing we have ever seen anyone do.” He dug an accusing finger into Steve’s arm but his childhood friend didn’t respond.

 

The elevator doors opened and Bucky reached out, planting a hand firmly in the middle of Jamie’s back and steering him out into the living room, lifting him onto one of the bar stools just as Betty and Jane appeared at the end of the hall.

 

“What happened?” Betty demanded. Jamie let out a rattling cough and Betty winced, her hand pressing to his forehead, smoothing back his sweat soaked hair from his fevered face.

 

“First JARVIS tells us Jamie is missing,” Jane looked rattled, her hair flying out of her pony tail. “and we’re barely half way down 45th and he tells us you’re on your way back.” Thor’s booted feet hit the landing balcony almost before the sentence was finished, Mjölnir clutched in one hand and a recently de-Hulked Bruce in the other.

 

“What happened?” Betty repeated, meeting them at the door, her arms wrapping protectively around Bruce’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” Bruce insisted, sinking into one of the armchairs as if he hadn’t the strength to stand. “It’s fine.”

 

“He made a break for it and fell onto the tracks at Lexington,” Bucky explained as Steve collapsed on the couch, burying his face in his hands. Jane’s fingers stroked Jamie’s hair, a frown on her face as she carefully checked him over for cuts and bruises.

 

“Oh, sweetie,” she sighed, smoothing back his hair. “You’re not even better yet.”

 

“No Mr. Mayor, it’s fine,” Pepper insisted, appearing at the top of the stairs, a perturbed expression on her face. “The Initiative and Stark Industries will be more than happy to cover the train damage. I think you’ll agree that it was preferable to letting a child die…. yes… yes of course. Well we were lucky the Avengers happened to be in the right place at the right time or it might have been much worse… Yes.” She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest as she strode behind the bar, starting the k-cup machine.

 

“Oh my god, is he okay?” Clint bolted off the express elevator, Tony Natasha and Phil close behind him. Clint darted across the living room with a panicked expression, grasping Jamie’s small hands in his and checking each finger as if to assure himself they were all still there. “Is he okay? Are you okay?”

 

“Clint, you’re frightening him,” Natasha scolded.

 

“He should be frightened!” Clint protested angrily before turning back to the boy. “You should be frightened! You scared me to death! Don’t you ever do anything like that again!” Jamie let out a choked sound, instantly clamping a hand over his mouth as if to hold it in, his shoulders shaking with the force of the wail he was struggling to silence. Clint’s eyes widened and he backpedaled in horror, bumping into Bucky who grasped hold of him, holding him steady.

 

“That’s enough of that,” Phil’s gentle, soothing voice declared. He reached out, gathering the boy in his arms, rubbing his back. “Shhhh, you’ve had a good scare and you scared everyone else. But you’re going to be fine, no one’s been hurt and that’s the important thing. We were lucky today. You can’t take dangerous risks like that, we might not be so lucky next time.” Jamie’s hands clawed at the back of Phil’s jacket, crumpling the fabric as he sobbed into the agent’s shoulder but Phil gave no indication that he found it at all troubling. 

 

“Try to calm down now,” Phil murmured. “You’re going to make yourself sick. Nice slow steady breaths, that’s it.”

 

“Tony,” Steve said hoarsely, “Security, is there some way you can…”

 

“I’m on it,” Tony nodded, moving toward the desk at the far end of the room. He grabbed Clint by the arm, tugging him along in his wake, all but forcing him to concentrate on something other than the sobbing child in Phil’s arms.

 

“Shhh,” Phil soothed, his grip tightening in a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“Steve?” Bucky whispered, kneeling on the floor in front of him. Steve’s eyes were closed, his face so pale it was almost white.

 

“He’s okay,” Bucky whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of Jamie’s sobs. Steve opened his eyes, glancing over to where Pepper was gently drying Jamie’s face as he clung to Phil. He turned back to Bucky with a terrified expression, whatever words he wanted to say frozen in his throat. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“He escaped though a laundry chute?” Fury’s one eye narrowed menacingly, made all the more unsettling by its size on the massive video screen. “How does a six year old escape seventy stories down a laundry chute?”

 

“It’s not a chute as much as it is a really high tech dumb-waiter system,” Tony answered in frustration. “Superheroes are dirty, we go through a lot of towels. It’s just efficient for housekeeping not to have to drag carts around.”

 

“And you didn’t see this as a security problem?” Fury demanded. 

 

“I didn’t see any of Ross’s men climbing into my bed linens and riding in a two foot square box into my closet, no.” Tony drawled, rolling his eyes.

 

“A little shortsighted of you, really,” Bucky pointed out.

 

“I fixed it,” Tony insisted. “I handled it. I spent the last hour building in an override system. And JARVIS has a recall and an auto-lockdown now. He’s not sneaking out again.”

 

“He better not!” Fury snapped angrily. “I have New York Transit screaming at me because the Hulk dented a train. That does not make me happy gentlemen. This is your only warning. The next time,”

 

“There won’t be a next time,” Steve interrupted. “This isn’t on Tony, Director, it’s on me. I underestimated his resourcefulness, that won’t happen again.”

 

“Steve,” Tony sighed.

 

“He felt threatened and he made a break for it,” Steve interrupted, his tone clipped. “I should have seen this coming.”

 

“We’ve increased security,” Tony shook his head, shooting Steve an irritated look before turning back to Fury. “Even if he gets out of the suite again, he can’t get out of the tower on his own.”

 

“See that he doesn’t,” Fury barked, terminating the call.

 

“Well that could have been worse,” Bucky allowed, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Fury isn’t laying siege to my lobby,” Tony huffed. “I’m calling it a win.”

 

“Phil will iron it out,” Natasha assured, glancing over to where their handler was on the phone in the corner by the bar, his hand reaching down now and again to brush over the hair of the small boy still clinging to his pant leg and half hidden under the bar. 

 

Clint felt guilt knot in his stomach as the frightened blue eyes peered out at them around the bar stool Phil was sitting on, his pen tapping lightly against the bar top as he spoke. The others had settled into a security perimeter around the room, though Clint was certain it was mostly subconscious. Pepper had shucked her heels and jacket and was half curled up in the bar stool at the far end from Phil while Thor and Betty scoured the news reports and Jane did a check over of Tower security while Darcy caddied gatoraide for Bruce who was looking decidedly the worse for wear.

 

Clint crept across the room, slipping around the back of the bar and sitting on the floor, scooting forward just enough so that Jamie could see him, but not so close as to be considered inside the space the boy had tucked himself into under the bar.

 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Clint stated softly. Jamie only stared at him, his brow furrowed.

 

“Sorry,” Clint sighed, shaking his head. “When you do something that makes someone else hurt or upset you apologize, you say you’re sorry, so that they know you feel bad, that you didn’t mean to.” Jamie gave a tiny nod, his nose wrinkling up as he thought. His fidgeted anxiously and Clint reached out, his finger’s brushing the back of the boy’s small hand. Jamie looked up at him with a worried expression and Clint let out a sigh, tenderly brushing the hair back from the child’s face.

 

“You’re… you’re Hawkeye, aren’t you?” Jamie whispered, his eyes wide.

 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, color rising in his cheeks as he glanced away. They were both silent for a few minutes as Jamie toyed with the hem of his blue sweat pants.

 

“They told you a lot about the Avengers?” Clint asked hesitantly. Jamie nodded, his attention riveted on his feet. Clint didn’t need to speculate on exactly what they’d told the boy. Jamie’s tense shoulders were indication enough.

 

“What are they going to do to me?” Jamie asked finally, his voice warbling.

 

“Cut off your popsicles, probably,” Clint snorted in amusement, a grin spreading over his face. “When I piss Tony off he won’t let JARVIS order pineapple pizza. Hey, what?” He realized with no small amount of revulsion that the boy was trembling in fear and he took hold of one small hand.

 

“Hey, Jamie?” Clint felt his own throat close up as wide, terrified blue eyes, met his own.

 

“I tried to escape,” Jamie choked out hoarsely. “I disobeyed orders… 

I damaged facility equipment.”

 

“The Avengers don’t actually own the subway,” Clint corrected, his brow furrowing.

 

“Don’t let them terminate me,” Jamie whispered, tears filling his eyes.

 

“Oh shit,” Clint half gasped. “Steve!!” He reached out without thinking, his arms tightening around the small boy as he bolted to his feet.

 

“What?” Steve frowned as Clint hurried across the room. Jamie let out a whimper, wrapping his arms over his head, curling up as small as he could in Clint’s grasp. Clint mouthed wordlessly for a moment, staring between Tony and Steve who were only looking back at him in bewilderment.

 

“He thinks we’re going to torture him for running away,” Clint finally blurted out. Tony looked stricken and he took two steps back before sinking into the sofa, his face an ugly gray-green color. Steve only stared mutely until finally Clint met his eye in a silent, desperate plea for help.

 

“Jamie, no one is going to hurt you,” Steve declared sternly. “Look at me.” One frightened eye peeped out from under Clint’s hand as it carded though messy blond locks and Steve closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, steady breath. Without a word he plucked Jamie from Clint’s arms setting him on the floor and kneeling so that they were at eye level.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” He said softly, bruising away tears. “I want you to understand what you did was wrong, people could have been hurt, you could have been hurt and I can’t let that pass, but no one, not me, not anyone, is going to hurt you. Do you understand me?” Jamie nodded but he looked unconvinced, shifting back a half step so that he was pressed against Clint’s leg. Steve stared at him in silence for a long moment.

 

“I’m responsible for you, for everyone here,” he stated finally. “When someone does something wrong it’s my job to correct it. So the penalty for running away;” Jamie held his breath, his shoulders hunching up around his ears.

 

“You’re going to answer my questions, truthfully and completely,” Steve stated firmly. “Do you understand?” Jamie stared at him blankly as if the words were entirely alien.

 

“Jamie, do you understand me?” He repeated. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted softly but Steve held up his hand. 

 

“Jamie?” Steve prompted once more.

 

“I understand,” Jamie whispered.

 

“Were you listening to the conversation we were having in the kitchen?” Steve asked.

 

“Yes,” Jamie forced out.

 

“Why were you listening?” Steve questioned.

 

“Gather intel,” Jamie stated, his voice barely a whisper. “assess threats, assess containment and security, evaluate weaknesses, evaluate potential escape routes.”

 

“Were those your orders?” Steve asked, his brow furrowing. Natasha stood, rounding the sofa to stand near Bucky as Phil approached from the other side, the others gathering in around them in a lose circle. Jamie nodded, glancing at each of them out of the corner of his eye as Clint knelt on the floor, his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

 

“Your standing orders or your mission orders?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Standing orders,” Jamie whispered.

 

“Jamie were you deployed on a mission?” Steve asked emotionlessly.

 

“Oh god,” Tony whispered, staring at the boy as Clint’s eyes widened in horrified realization.

 

“No,” Jamie’s voice wavered. Steve studied him shrewdly. 

 

“JARVIS?” Steve prompted finally.

 

“He appears to be telling the truth, Captain,” the AI answered, Steve nodded in acceptance.

 

“Last question,” Steve said. “Tell me why you believe one of us would hurt you.” Bucky winced, looking away at Jamie’s stricken expression but Steve didn’t flinch. The boy dropped his gaze, staring at his feet.

 

“Jamie, no one here has harmed you, tell me why you believe we would,” Steve repeated, his tone softer.

 

“The technicians said it wouldn’t hurt,” he whispered. “they always said that, but it always did. They said if I was stronger, if I wasn’t broken, it wouldn’t hurt. If I was better, if I did it right, if I did as I was told.” his voice choked off, his small frame shaking.

 

“Jamie, look at me,” Steve insisted. Wide blue eyes peered up through blond curls and Steve folded one small hand in his own, squeezing gently. “What they did to you was wrong. It was more wrong than what you did today. You need to try to understand that. We have a word for what they did to you; torture. It’s one of the worst things a person can do. You’re going to make mistakes, you’re going to do the wrong thing because everyone does, and you’ll have to face the consequences of those mistakes. But torture is never, ever a punishment. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” Jamie’s brow creased in a confused frown but he nodded, glancing back at Clint who wrapped an arm protectively around the child.

 

“All right,” Steve nodded, brushing away the last of Jamie’s tears. “That’s the end of it. You’re still running a fever and you’ve had an upsetting evening. I think we need to get you some dinner and get you to bed. JARVIS?”

 

“Rotisserie chicken and mashed potatoes are currently en route from the deli,” JARVIS answered. Steve gave Clint a nod and the archer rolled to his feet.

 

“I hope you ordered extra,” Clint sighed, swinging Jamie onto his hip, tucking the blond head under his chin.

 

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS confirmed as Clint headed toward the stairs, the others trailing after him toward the kitchen.

 

“You think maybe you were a little hard on him?” Tony asked with a frown when the room had cleared.

 

“Maybe a little,” Steve shrugged.

 

“You don’t think he wasn’t traumatized enough already,” Tony demanded, a hint of anger in his tone. “I mean, almost dying seems like a reasonable punishment.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve let out a sigh. “But when I was a kid, the worst part was the waiting, wondering what mom was going to say. I had to make it convincing or he’d just keep expecting to get punished. At least this way, maybe he can let it go.” Tony stared at him in silence, his arms folded over his chest.

 

“Well, you’re still an asshole,” Tony huffed uncomfortably.

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I am.”

 


	10. Twinkle, twinkle all the night.

Steve woke to the sound of rain pattering against the glass. It wasn’t a hard rain, but that didn’t matter. His hearing was such that the slightest rumble of thunder was usually enough to rouse him from slumber.

 

The clock by his bed read 3:23 am and he sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“How’s Jamie doing, JARVIS?” He asked softly, his voice hoarse with sleep.

 

“His body temperature has decreased to 99.3, his congestion shows a marked improvement and his instances of waking from respiratory distress have decreased by 47%.” the AI answered dutifully.

 

“So that’s behind us, huh?” Steve observed.

 

“So it would seem, sir,” JARVIS agreed. “Would you like me to access monitoring so that you can check on him visually?”

 

“No,” Steve gave a faint smile, throwing back the covers and swinging his feet onto the floor. “I think I’ll just do it the old fashioned way.” 

 

He crept silently down the hall, careful not to make any noise as he approached Jamie’s room. Soft silver light glittered through the open doorway and he paused on the threshold, folding his arms over his chest. 

 

A tiny lamp had been mounted in the middle of the room and it turned slowly, casting a sparkling image of stars over the ceiling and walls, now and again constellations would outline themselves, their faint images dancing to life on the plaster and then disappearing again. It was unlike anything Steve had ever seen and he was at least 70% certain that Tony had programed it specifically for Jamie. He’d probably find out in a month or two when SI’s new educational toy division started advertising them.

 

His attention finally drifted from the walls to the small figure sprawled on the bed. Steve couldn’t help but snort. Bed was hardly the word. Tony had gone shopping again while Steve had been out and the old queen bed had been replaced with a monstrosity of a thing that looked more like a castle shaped tree house than a bed, with an upper loft and, apparently, a trundle that pulled out from the front. Bucky was splayed out on the trundle, Jamie’s hand fisted in the front of Bucky’s T-shirt as the boy half dangled over the edge of the bed. Bucky shifted in his sleep, his hand closing over Jamie’s as he let out a snore.

 

“It’s so cute it’s sickening,” Natasha observed softly. Steve turned to find her curled up in the arm chair that had found its way into the corner of the room. Most everything in the room had been moved, much of it completely gone to make room for what Tony referred to as a more ‘child friendly atmosphere’. Steve had tried to point out that he’d never had any of these things, including a space all his own, and he’d turned out passably well. That fact hadn’t deterred Tony in the least from the mountain of toys and books that had been slowly flooding the room.

 

“I used to do that,” Steve admitted, nodding in Jamie and Bucky’s direction as he settled on the ottoman at Natasha’s feet. “When I was sick. I’d get scared and Bucky would hold my hand. I never even had to ask.”

 

“You mean the world to him,” Natasha declared, a fondness in her tone. Steve met her gaze with a look that was nearly surprised but her lips only curled up in amusement.

 

“He means as much or more to me,” Steve confessed, looking at his hands.

 

“I know, Cap,” she brushed a caress on his shoulder. Her hand fell away and she returned her attention to the dogeared pages of the novel she’d been reading. “Maybe you should talk to him about what’s been bothering you.”

 

“I…” Steve’s voice stuttered and he swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Don’t you now?” she pined him with her scrutinizing gaze. “You’ve been on edge since we found the boy. I certainly wouldn’t expect you to open up to myself or Tony, but James deserves better than that from you.”

 

“I’m just worried about what to do for him,” Steve shook his head resolutely, returning his attention to Jamie and Bucky. “It’s a delicate situation and I’m honestly a little out of my depth. I want to make sure I do what’s best for him.”

 

“Is that a fact?” Natasha hummed, turning the page of her novel as Steve gave a confident nod. “It’s a good thing national security hinges on my ability to lie and not yours.” Steve turned to her, gaping like a fish.

 

“Do not look at me like that,” she ordered, her tone soft but firm. Steve mouthed at her wordlessly a moment but whatever he might have offered in his defense was silenced by the bloodcurdling scream that pierced the air.

 

“Oh god,” Steve gasped in horror as Jamie flung himself back from the edge of the bed, his head hitting the wall with a thump as he scrambled away from a danger only he could see. Natasha was on her feet in an instant but she had barely moved before Bucky was up, half diving across the bed.

 

“It’s okay, Jamie it’s all right,” he insisted, the boy’s face cradled in both his hands. You’re safe! It’s all right, buddy.” Jamie stared back at him with unseeing eyes like saucers. His gaze finally focused and he let out a broken sound, his arms tangling over his head as he curled into a ball.

 

“Shh shh shh,” Bucky’s voice was soft as he wedged himself into the small space that held the bed, gathering Jamie against his chest and wrapping both arms around him so that he was holding on to as much of the child as he could. “It was a dream, it was just a dream, it can’t hurt you. You’re safe.”

 

“He hit his head,” Steve stated, a distressed expression on his face as he hovered over Natasha who knelt on the trundle Bucky had been sleeping on only moments before. She reached out to gently run her fingers through the boy’s hair.

 

“He seems okay,” she frowned. “JARVIS?”

 

“I’m detecting only mild contusions,” JARVIS answered. “He does not appear to be seriously harmed.”

 

“Can you order some foam padding for the wall?” Natasha asked nodding, she looked over the bed a moment. “And maybe the rails too?”

 

“I shall have them installed without delay,” The AI promised.

 

“He’s shaking like a leaf,” Bucky observed, his metal hand cradling Jamie’s head protectively as the boy snuffled into his neck, hiccuping and gasping by turns.

 

“This can’t be any good for his asthma,” Steve worried. Bucky cringed.

 

“Okay, Steve’s kind of a ‘man up’ kind of guy to begin with,” Bucky said softly. “but this time he’s right. You don’t want another repeat with the inhaler, do you?” Jamie shook his head and Bucky pried him off his shoulder, setting him on his lap so that they were facing each other. 

 

“Slow breath.” Bucky instructed, his hands running over the boy’s arms and back in a soothing, circular motion. Jamie struggled to copy him, his shoulders shaking and the faintest wheeze coming from his lungs.

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky assured, brushing away the tears as Jamie’s breathing slowly evened out. “It’s going to be okay. Just keep breathing, nice and slow.” Jamie drew in a shaky breath, leaning forward to let his head rest against Bucky’s chest.

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky insisted, his voice cracking as he looked up at Steve with shining eyes.

 

“I’m going to get him a drink,” Natasha declared, rolling elegantly to her feet, and walking down the hall toward Steve’s kitchen. Steve slumped down on the trundle bed, pressing his back against the bed frame and draping one arm over Bucky’s knee.

 

“Sometimes,” Steve said awkwardly. “not always, but sometimes you feel better if you tell someone else about the dream you had.” He swallowed, his fingers unconsciously gripping at Bucky’s sleep pants. 

 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he added. 

 

“I was in the lab,” Steve waited but Jamie offered nothing more.

 

“You’re never going back there,” Steve stated. He paused, wetting his lips with his tongue. “It’s not there any more. Clint and Tony… well, they like explosions, they’re loud and messy, kind of like Clint and Tony. And it’s not there any more. So no one can make you go back there.”

 

“Promise?” Jamie stuttered out in a tiny voice. 

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Yeah, I promise.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Jamie curled against Bucky’s chest, his eyes wide and frightened as Bucky’s metal hand ran soothing circles on the boy’s back. His best friend looked back at him with a pained expression and Steve let out a sigh

 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Steve said softly, letting his head fall back against the bed frame. “The world’s a scary place sometimes. Everyone’s afraid once in a while. Being brave isn’t about not being afraid, it’s about standing up to the stuff you’re afraid of. It’s always easier to be brave when you don’t have to do it all by yourself. So it’s okay, it’s all right if you wake up and you just need someone to be there. It’s okay to come find me or Bucky or any of us if you need us.” 

 

"I had nightmares pretty bad for a while," Steve admitted. "Something... Something bad happened to me and I kept dreaming about it. I still do sometimes. That's okay, it happens. Eventually things get better, the nightmares don't happen as often. You learn to face the things that you're afraid of, so even when the dreams come, it's not so bad."

 

Steve ran his fingers though his hair with a sigh looking over his shoulder once more, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. Bucky had slumped back against the wall, his mouth hanging open as he snored softly. Jamie’s head was pillowed on Bucky’s thigh, his thin arms clinging to the toy dog Tony had given him as he slept.

 

“So cute it’s sickening,” Natasha shook her head, leaning against the door frame, a water bottle in each hand. She held one out to Steve, tucking the other on the corner of the shelf near Jamie’s pillow.

 

“Thanks,” Steve whispered, downing a third of the bottle in one go.

 

“You can head back to bed,” Natasha offered. “I can stay up a few more hours.” Steve shook his head.

 

“I think I’m going to stay for a bit,” he stared at the water bottle in his hand. “You go ahead and get some sleep." Natasha nodded, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before slipping out of the room.

 

Steve stretched out on the trundle bed, tucking Bucky’s abandoned pillow under his head as he stared at the stars that sparkled on the ceiling. Bucky shifted in his sleep, his foot goading Steve in the ribs and the Captain winced.

 

“Ass,” he sighed fondly, pushing Bucky’s foot away as Ursa Major and Minor flickered to life overhead. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Swing set.”

 

It was the only word Clint could conceivably articulate as he stood beside the two story plate glass windows that flooded the room with afternoon light. His hands were resting on Jamie’s shoulders but the boy made no movement, staring up at the structure.

 

They were on the company recreation floor of Stark Tower, sandwiched between the game room where a pair of SI programers were playing pool and debugging code by turns, and the company coffee house that normally would be churning out double lattes as fast as the staff could drink them but was now closed for the weekend. At some point after stepping off the elevator, Clint’s brain had completely derailed and at the moment he wasn’t sure if he might be having some sort of spiritual revelation or a complete psychological collapse.

 

“Swing set,” he repeated nodding.

 

This was not a ‘swing set’ in the same sense that the helicarrier was not a ‘boat’. As a matter of fact Clint wasn’t at all certain that the helicarrier wasn’t more simple in construction and less revolutionary in its design.

 

And maybe slightly smaller than the ‘swing set’.

 

It all made sense now, a fact that Clint probably would have found alarming if he’d had a decent night’s sleep. Deep down he held an abiding belief that nothing about being a superhero should ever make sense. 

 

When he’d gone down to the gym that morning he’d noticed the conspicuous absence of the swing set that Tony had ordered. He’d stewed for about a hundred reps before he’d broken down and asked JARVIS, who’d reported that Steve had redirected the swing set to the employee recreation floor on forty-two. 

 

Clint had spent the next half hour complaining to Natasha about the lack of security on the public business floors of the tower and the hour following that insisting to Phil that it was Steve subconsciously trying to distance them all from Jamie.

 

Phil might have implied that Clint was only angry because he wouldn’t be able to monopolize the swings since the Stark Industries daycare and after school programs were both on forty-two.

 

Clint had a reply to that but he couldn’t say it in front of a six year old.

 

“Okay,” Clint sighed, looking up at the monstrous structure. “I’m going to have to apologize to some people later.” He had to admit now, the ‘swing set’ wouldn’t have fit in their gym unless they’d taken out the boxing ring. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to live in a world where Tony and Steve couldn’t blow off steam by punching inanimate objects.

 

“Remember what we talked about,” Clint said seriously, crouching down beside Jamie with a firm look. “I want to be able to see you at all times. Do not make me sorry we came down here.” Jamie looked away, his sock clad feet scuffing at the floor.

 

“Hey don’t look like that,” Clint admonished gently. “We’re good, we’re still friends. I’m not mad… well I was, I just…” Clint winced, settling on the floor and folding his legs in front of him. 

 

“I’m kind of afraid to trust you,” Clint admitted. Jamie shifted back and forth on his feet and Clint gave him a worried look. “Jamie, buddy, do you know what trust is?”

 

“They said to never trust,” Jamie whispered. “it gets you killed.” Clint’s face fell and he reached out cautiously, taking hold of Jamie’s hand.

 

“It can also save your life,” Clint insisted. “When you have people you can trust to always have your back, it makes all the difference in the world.” Jamie looked down at his toes, his small hand gripping tight to Clint’s 

 

“Like me,” Clint added softly. “I’m always going to have your back.” Jamie looked up at him through his lashes and Clint gave him a gentle smile.

 

“Is it still okay if I hug you?” Clint asked hesitantly. The words were barely out of his mouth before Jamie’s arms were around his neck. Clint could feel the tension bleeding out of them both and he cuddled Jamie into his shoulder, stroking his hair.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Clint insisted. “We’ll get through all of this and you’re going to have a great life, and no one’s going to hurt you any more. I promise.”

 

“You don’t hate me?” Jamie asked, his voice warbling.

 

“No, of course not,” Clint replied, brushing a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Hey, we’re down here to have fun, right?” Jamie nodded, turning so that he could sink into Clint’s lap.

 

“What’s it for?” he asked, looking up at the play structure with a confused expression.

 

“Climbing and yelling mostly,” Clint replied. Jamie turned his head to look up at the archer with a skeptical frown. Clint let out a chuckle, lifting the boy off his lap and setting him on his feet before clambering up after him. “Come on, we’ll try out the tire swing.” He hoisted Jamie into the tire, making sure his hands were gripping tight before giving the swing a gentle shove. Jamie’s eyes grew the size of saucers and Clint grasped hold of the plastic covered chains with the next push, pulling himself up to stand on the other side of the tire, using the weight of his body like a pendulum to keep it in motion. Jamie let out a gasp, clinging to the swing.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe!” Clint insisted, crouching down so that he was lower on the swing. “The floor’s padded, look. Even if you fall off you won’t get more than a bump.” 

 

“It’s making him dizzy,” Clint looked up at Steve’s voice. The Captain was leaning against one of the cafe tables, his arms folded over his chest. Clint slid down to sit on the edge of the tire, his feet stopping the swing as he stared at Steve mutely.

 

“The spinning,” Steve explained, a hint of shyness in his tone. “The tire swing spins, it’s making him dizzy.” Clint blanched, hunkering down so that he was eye level with the boy.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, gently ruffling Jamie’s hair. “It’s okay to tell me this stuff, you know?” Jamie gave him an uncertain look and Clint couldn’t help but lean in to give him a squeeze.

 

“Here, why don’t we try the slide?” Steve suggested, crossing the floor to lift Jamie off the swing, setting him at the bottom of the climbing wall. “I think you’re going to like it a lot better. Just be careful climbing up.” Jamie clambered up the wall with expert precision, heaving himself on to the upper floor.

 

“Yeah, across the rope bridge,” Steve directed, looking up at him. “No it’s fine, it’ll hold you, it’ll hold me and Clint together… Yeah that big tube over there… feet first.” Jamie spilled out of the bottom of the tube slide, his hair distinctly rumpled and his eyes once more wide as saucers.

 

“What do you think?” Steve asked seriously. Jamie tilted his head all the way back to look up at Steve with a gaping expression. He stared for only a moment and then a half aborted giggle tumbled out, his eyes lighting up.

 

“Go on,” Steve jerked his head in the direction of the climbing wall and Jamie was off like a shot, scrambling back up to the upper level as fast as he could go.

 

“So like… an inner ear thing?” Clint asked softly, watching as the boy came down the slide again and took off at a run for a repeat the moment his feat hit the ground.

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, leaning against the monstrous play structure as Jamie’s feet pounded over their heads. “No merry-go-rounds… I got sick on the carousel at Coney Island once.”

 

“If I look like I’m pitying you?” Clint offered apologetically, watching as Jamie ran by them again. “I’m really just feeling really badly for all the things he can’t do.”

 

“I… didn’t think to say anything about it to Bruce,” Steve sighed, looking up. “Hey, try the fireman, pole. Hang on tight!” He turned back to Clint as Jamie slid down the pole with a delighted gasp, landing on his back side on the foam floor covering. He was on his feet an instant later, tackling the rope ladder.

 

“It tilts!” Clint warned. “Be careful!”

 

“Do you think there’s anything they can do about the ear thing?” Steve asked.

 

“I don’t know, maybe?” Clint offered. “The medication Bruce put him on for the asthma seems to be doing wonders for him.” Steve nodded in agreement.

 

“There’s another slide on the other end, go try that one, see if it’s any better.” Steve directed, waving his hand off toward one of the other towers. He folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Whatever possessed Tony to think we could fit this thing in the gym?”

 

“I don’t think he actually looks at the stuff he buys,” Clint admitted. “Maybe it’s good? There’ll be other kids here using it during the week, Jamie can make some friends.”

 

“I just hope no one from R&D minds that I moved all the sofas over by the pinball machines,” Steve replied with a wince. Clint shrugged. 

 

“The kids in the after school program are going to love this thing,” he insisted.

 

“Looks like someone’s enjoying it,” Steve observed, tilting his head back to look up at the third level where Jamie was clambering across a hammock net. The boy let slip a giggle as he lost his footing, sliding back into the middle of the net.

 

“Steve, are you okay?” Clint asked, his brow furrowing in a frown. Steve’s posture became increasingly more rigid as his eye followed Jamie in his heedless exploration of the worlds most pretentious jungle gym. 

 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“I like the slide,” Jamie declared, his sapphire eyes peering down at the pair of them from the suspension bridge over their heads.

 

“Pretty neat huh?” Clint grinned, tilting his head back. “And you thought I was crazy didn’t you?” Jamie blushed, biting his lip as Clint laughed.

 

“There’s a thing over there,” Jamie offered hesitantly, pointing to the far side of the play structure. “I… don’t know how it works.”

 

“I’m going to go with mutant see-saw,” Clint declared, craning his neck to have a look. “You can’t get it to work because you need at least two people.” He reached up, grasping hold of Jamie and lifting him onto his shoulder.

 

“What do you say, Cap?” Clint flashed him a smile. “Me and the kiddo together just about match you for weight.”

 

“Um, actually I need to run out for a bit,” Steve replied. “I just wanted you to know that if anything comes up before I get back, Bucky says he’s free.”

 

“Sure,” Clint nodded, glancing up to see Jamie’s bright expression fade into one of disappointed confusion. “There’s enough of us around here we’ll work something out, Cap, you don’t need to worry.”

 

“Thanks, I’m going to go check in with Bruce about the ear thing before I go,” Steve added, pushing away from the play structure. “You guys have a good time.” Clint watched him a moment before looking up at Jamie.

 

“Give me two minutes with Steve and then we’ll test drive the see-saw, okay?” He cajoled, setting Jamie on the floor. The boy nodded and he hurried after the blond.

 

“Hey Cap?” Clint stopped him half way to the elevator. “Can you, maybe, give him fifteen minutes before you go? I think he really wants you to join us.”

 

“I know you’ve been caring for him a lot,” Steve answered with a worried frown. “If it’s getting to be too much.”

 

“No,” Clint corrected quickly. “God, no. Honestly I think this is the most relaxed I’ve been since Loki. I just… you should spend some time with him.”

 

“I promise I’ll get back early enough to make everyone dinner,” Steve declared. “Meatloaf? You really like meatloaf.”

 

“I really like _your_ meatloaf,” Clint insisted, half drooling. “But that.” 

 

“Great,” Steve nodded, heading toward the elevator at a jog. “I’ll see you guys when I get back.”

 

“Steve?” Clint called after him but the doors had already shut.

 

“Clint?” the sound of Jamie’s voice made his heart lodge in his throat and he turned, putting on his best grin as he strode back toward the play structure to find the boy hanging upside down in the net ladder, his foot wedged though one of the holes.

 

“Not paying attention, huh?” Clint asked, struggling to hold back his laugh. Jamie’s cheeks colored and Clint’s grin widened into a real one as he wrapped his arm around Jamie’s chest, lifting him enough to get his foot free. He moved to set the boy on his feet and as soon as Jamie’s toes touched the rubber floor he flung both arms around Clint’s neck, hugging him.

 

“Having fun?” Clint asked, pulling him closer. Jamie nodded and Clint let out a sigh. Jamie’s arms tightened in a squeeze and as he turned to take off again Clint had to fight down the urge to hang on.

 

 

* * *

  

 

“Steve’s going to be pissed.”

 

“I can’t begin to express how much I don’t care, Tony,” Pepper declared mildly, holding a pair of child size button-down shirts out in front of her.

 

“You took him shopping,” Tony groaned in exasperation. Pepper pressed a finger to the earbud of her cell phone, turning the volume down slightly. “In public, on a Saturday afternoon!”

 

“It’s not the disaster you’re making it out to be,” Pepper answered, shaking her head at both shirts and returning them to the rack. “Natasha and Phil are both here, Happy drove us, we’re reasonably safe.”

 

“Put me on speaker phone, I want to talk to Nat,” He snapped. Pepper ignored his request, flipping through a rack of jeans in varying colors. “I’m serious! Pep!”

 

“I think he wants you to talk some sense into me,” Pepper tossed out. Natasha looked up from her phone as she sat in the overstuffed chair near the dressing room door.

 

“Impending doom,” Natasha sighed with a bored expression, uncrossing and recrossing her long legs as she returned her attention to her phone. “Peril, heart rending desolation.”

 

“You’re absolutely right, Tony,” Pepper stated disinterestedly. “I’m positively aquiver with worry. We’re coming right back to the tower.”

 

“You’re mocking me aren’t you?” Tony demanded irritably.

 

“Black plague,” Natasha added as an afterthought.

 

“Of course I’m mocking you,” Pepper answered with a fond smile as she pulled a couple of henleys from one of the display tables. “We haven’t even looked at shoes yet.”

 

“Tax audits,” Natasha continued. “Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.”

 

“God help me,” Tony groaned.

 

“You’re an atheist, Tony,” Pepper reminded. 

 

“Well look at you,” Natasha smiled warmly as Jamie emerged from the changing room in a black pair of jeans and a dark green sweater, a bright blue plaid button-down peeking out at the cuffs and collar. 

 

“How does it feel?” Pepper asked, crouching down in front of him to smooth out the sweater. “It should be comfortable, it’s not too tight or too loose anywhere?”

 

“It’s soft,” Jamie observed, his hand rubbing the sleeve of the sweater curiously.

 

“It looks good on you,” Pepper nodded, motioning him toward the mirror.

 

“How in the name of hell did you get Phil to agree to this?” Tony demanded.

 

“Absolutely not!” Natasha declared fiercely, her brow knitting in a threatening scowl as she turned her attention on Phil who was standing at the end of one of the racks. “You are not putting a six year old in a double breasted coat! That thing screams pretentious rich kid.”

 

“I like it,” Phil pouted, holding the offending coat out at arms length to admire it.

 

“Have you even looked at Phil’s wardrobe?” Pepper asked curiously as Phil rehung the coat with a sigh. 

 

“What about Katnis, where’s he?” Tony demanded as if grasping at straws.

 

“He said something about securing the perimeter” Pepper shrugged. “I think he’s in the vents.”

 

“In Neiman Marcus?” Tony demanded, scandalized.

 

“Don’t be silly,” Pepper rolled her eyes. “We’re in Macy’s.” Tony let out a long, pained groan.

 

“Tony I really don’t have time for this,” She sighed. “He’s six, he can’t wear pajamas every day.”

 

“He’s a terrorist target, Pep!” Tony protested.

 

“He’s six,” She repeated emphatically. “and he ran around a subway station in sweats and bedroom slippers. It’s a wonder he doesn’t have tetanus!”

 

“Pepper!”

 

“He’s getting clothes and shoes,” She insisted. “And that’s final. We’ll see you when we get back.”

 

“Pep!” 

 

Pepper turned off her phone, pulling the earbud from her ear.

 

“So what do you think?” She asked Jamie who was staring at his reflection in the mirror.

 

“You look sharp,” Phil gave the boy a warm look and a thumbs up. Jamie smiled back shyly, glancing back at the mirror.

 

“It’s a much better fit,” Pepper agreed. “Do you like it?” Jamie turned to look at her with a confused expression. Pepper’s smile softened and she turned him back toward the mirror, straightening his cuffs.

 

“Part of learning to be your own person and making your own decisions is deciding how you want to look,” She explained. “Deciding what colors you like and the types of fabrics and just the way the clothes make you feel.”

 

“And that’s good,” Jamie’s words weren’t a question but she nodded anyway.

 

“It’s very good,” She replied. “being able to make choices for ourselves is one of the most valuable things we have.”

 

“I’ve never,” Jamie looked up at Phil with a cautious expression before turning back to Pepper. “I’ve always wore what they gave me.”

 

“We know,” Phil nodded, settling on the padded bench beside the mirror so that he was at eye level. “This is a good place to practice making choices because there aren’t any right or wrong ones.”

 

“Ms. Potts?” One of the sales girls appeared with an armful of shoe boxes, a rather delighted and harried looking shoe salesman in her wake with an additional stack.

 

“Here, let’s practice,” Pepper said, her smile widening as she straightened to take the top box from the young woman. “Pick a pair to try on first.” She opened two of the boxes, peeling back the tissue and Jamie peered inside curiously. One was a pair of bright blue Converse One Stars, the other were black and green Nikes. Jamie stared at them a long moment before reaching out for the blue ones.

 

“Phil, look they’ve got the Iron Man Stride-Rites,” Pepper added in a delighted tone, pawing through the other boxes. Phil leaned over her shoulder with an amused smile.

 

“You’re going to make him get them, aren’t you?” he teased. “After that speech.”

 

“Oh shush,” she waved a hand at him. “He can have any of the others he wants, I don’t care.”

 

“How do they feel?” The shoe salesman asked, tying Jamie’s laces for him smartly. Jamie clambered off the floor, bobbing back and forth for a moment, staring at his toes.

 

“He’s so adorable,” Pepper remarked so softly only Phil could hear. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why Steve had so much trouble with girls.”

 

“It was a different era,” Phil reminded, he frowned, watching as Jamie scuttled back and forth between the racks, testing out the shoes. “Maybe that’s why Steve…” his voice trailed off and he shook his head.

 

“Is something wrong?” Pepper murmured, pretending to look through the t-shirts

 

“I don’t know,” Phil admitted, his voice low. “It’s like Steve’s afraid. I can’t imagine why, he’s always been good with kids, especially Jamie’s age.”

 

“Sudden unexpected fatherhood can be a little overwhelming,” Pepper pointed out in amusement.

 

“He isn’t treating this like fatherhood,” Phil replied. “He’s treating Jamie like an asset, an assignment.” Pepper frowned.

 

“He probably doesn’t remember his own father,” she mused. “maybe he’s just falling back on what he knows.”

 

“Maybe,” Phil shrugged.

 

“Do you like that?” They both looked up at Natasha’s words to find her next to Jamie who was eying a brown leather bomber’s jacket. Jamie looked up at her with a worried expression, tucking his hands quickly behind his back.

 

“You should try it on,” Pepper suggested. Jamie gave her a wide eyed look as Natasha’s fingers moved down the rack, picking out his size.

 

“Give it a go and see how you like it,” she suggested, helping him tug off the sweater and holding the jacket out for him so he could shrug into it.

 

“Much better than that double breasted thing Phil wanted to put you in,” Natasha stated in satisfaction as Phil made a face. Jamie stared at his reflection, tilting his head back in and forth as if he was unsure who he was looking at.

 

“Do you like it?” Pepper asked. Jamie turned to look at her, nodding slowly. “We’ll take it then, pick out a couple of pairs of shoes you like and we’ll call it a day.”

 

“We should get ice cream before we go back,” Phil added, pulling the lids off of boxes so that Jamie could look through the shoes.

 

“It’ll spoil his dinner,” Natasha stated with a frown.

 

“At least two of us don’t care,” Phil stated, giving Jamie a conspiratorial wink.

 

“Three,” Pepper hummed, sifting through the hoodies.

 

“Four!” Clint’s voice crackled over Natasha’s com loud enough for Phil to hear. 

 

“Democracy wins,” he observed as Clint let out a whoop. Natasha only frowned, shaking her head in exasperation.

 


	11. Like a diamond in the sky

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, the screen in front of him swimming just a bit as he stared at the calculations. He brushed it aside with a frustrated hand, instead bringing up the internal security standards.

 

“All right,” Bruce’s even voice was tinged with a hint of exasperation. “What is it?”

 

“What’s what?” Tony mumbled in reply, his attention fixated on the screen.

 

“You’ve been at it since Friday night and you’ve barely looked at the new composite prototypes,” Bruce replied. 

 

“So?” Tony shrugged as he pulled up a programing window, typing in strings of code.

 

“So it’s nearly eleven AM,” Bruce observed.

 

“Not my first all nighter,” Tony pointed out, pretending to ignore him.

 

“On Sunday,” Bruce added with a scowl. Tony paused, a shocked expression on his face. Finally he shrugged, making a non committal sound in the back of his throat. Bruce’s eyes narrowed.

 

“You haven’t even touched the microchip specs waiting for approval from R&D,” the physicist huffed. “And every time I look over there, you’re fiddling with the damn security.” 

 

“I am not,” Tony replied rolling his eyes. Bruce leaned over his shoulder, blinking in stunned silence.

 

“Is that a prototype for an electromagnetic shield for Avengers Tower?” he demanded finally.

 

“Uh… maybe,” Tony answered defensively. He straightened, pulling his shoulders back. “I keep having to rebuild this joint every time we’re called out! And you have to admit, it would be a spectacular Hulk containment.”

 

“Tony, he’s six,” Bruce reminded, his expression pitying. Tony mouthed wordlessly a moment.

 

“Fuck off,” he declared finally. Bruce stifled a snort of amusement. He glanced over at the sofa in the far corner of the lab where Steve was sprawled, his sketch book open on his chest and his brow furrowed as he slept. Jamie was on the floor beside him, his attention divided between ‘Cars’ playing on the TV and the picture of Mater he was meticulously coloring in in shades of blue and purple. 

 

“We’re all a little,” Bruce’s attention darted back to Steve a moment and he sighed. “Stressed at the moment. It’ll pass.”

 

“The first time I got kidnapped I was eight,” Tony confessed. Bruce winced, glancing at Jamie. “It was my own damn fault. I wanted to go out. There were kids playing across the street in the park and I just.” he swallowed.

 

“You wanted to be a regular kid,” Bruce stated knowingly. Tony nodded in answer.

 

“I ditched my nanny and snuck out,” Tony continued. “I couldn’t have been gone twenty minutes when they grabbed me.”

 

“You must have been terrified,” Bruce stated sympathetically.

 

“It was only a few hours,” Tony shrugged, trying to brush off the memory. “They barely had a chance to rough me up before Stark Industries security busted in.”

 

“What happened to the guys who took you?” Bruce asked. Tony’s attention returned to his workstation, an uncomfortable set to his shoulders.

 

“Whatever else you can say about my old man, he never put my safety at risk,” Tony answered. He glanced at Bruce out of the corner of his eye, taking in his hesitant expression. “Let’s just say I get on with Clint because I learned a deep abiding respect for snipers at an early age.” Bruce blanched.

 

“I wonder if Phil had a normal childhood,” he mused presently.

 

“It’d be good if someone around here did,” Tony observed. Bruce bit back a laugh, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head. Two bright blue eyes were peeping up at him over the lip of the lab bench, small fingers curled around its edge. 

 

“Hello,” Bruce offered cautiously. Jamie’s shock of messy blond hair bobbed lightly but he made no other movement.

 

“What ‘cha doing?” he finally asked hesitantly. Bruce blinked back at him in confusion and the boy’s cheeks colored. “Tony said I should ask everyone what they do.”

 

“I’m, um,” Bruce hesitated, clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s good, that’s very good. You should definitely ask.” Bruce paused, staring at him in stunned silence for a moment.

 

“A friend of mine is sick,” he explained finally as Tony struggled not to laugh. “So I’m trying to find out of there’s a reason.” Jamie’s attention turned to the tiny pipets of samples lined up on the lab bench.

 

“Gene mapping,” Jamie stated. Bruce gaped back at him owlishly for a moment.

 

“Yes, that’s right,” he nodded, shaking off his shocked expression. “Sometimes we can make people better if there’s something wrong with their genes.”

 

“Can I help?” he asked, looking up at Bruce as if he were unsure of his footing. Bruce studied him a long moment as if he’d never seen a child before, finally shaking off his stupor.

 

“Would you like to load the centrifuge?” he asked. Jamie’s head bobbed and Bruce carefully slid the rack closer to the boy. “Two hands, and walk slowly, we can’t drop them or we’ll have to start over.” Jamie nodded, carefully taking hold of the rack and walking in the direction Bruce pointed two lab benches away. He set down the rack and opened the lid of the centrifuge, his tongue peeping out between his lips as he meticulously placed each vial in the rotator.

 

“Let me know when it’s done, would you?” Bruce called, pretending to return his attention to his work as Jamie nodded again. The boy pressed the start button and backed up, settling onto the floor to watch.

 

“What the hell was that?” Tony mouthed almost silently, his eyes the size of saucers. Bruce gave him a full body shrug, looking equally flummoxed. A muffled groan broke the silence as Steve roused, his sketch pad tumbling to the floor. He pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his joints popping as he stretched. He focused blearily at the boy who had found the bin of legos and was sitting cross-legged, painstakingly building what looked like a boat out of red bricks, his attention straying to the centrifuge.

 

“Sorry I nodded off,” Steve yawned, frowning. “What are you doing, buddy?” Jamie met his gaze with guarded eyes before checking the centrifuge again.

 

“Science,” He declared with a shrug.

 

“Okay,” Steve nodded, yawning as Bruce struggled to keep from laughing. There was a knock against the glass of the lab door and Steve looked up with a frown.

 

“Steve,” Phil stood at the door, his brow furrowed. “Director Fury would like a word.”

 

“Why didn’t he call me?” Steve asked in confusion.

 

“He did, you slept through it,” Tony interrupted with a snort. “Your ass has been vibrating for the last half hour.” Steve shot him a withering look, fishing his phone from his pocket with one hand and waving the other in Jamie’s direction.

 

“Thanks Phil, I’ll get with him,” Steve sighed, staring at the missed messages on his phone. “Um, is it okay if I?” Steve’s voice trailed off as he looked up at Tony and then back down at Jamie again whose boat was looking less like a boat all the time and more like a quinjet. 

 

“Yeah, sure, he’s fine,” Tony insisted, waving at the door without looking away from his holoprojections. 

 

“Before you go, Steve?” Bruce interrupted. Steve frowned, pushing himself to his feet and crossing the lab until they were both a fair distance from Jamie. Bruce gave Tony’s sleeve a tug and the engineer shuffled closer to them as Steve nodded at Phil to join them as well.

 

“I, well, I’ve started in on the gene testing we talked about and it’s a long process,” Bruce began. 

 

“It’s understandable,” Steve nodded. Bruce gave him a thin smile.

 

“I’ve already picked up some anomalies,” Bruce admitted. 

 

“What kind of anomalies?” Phil asked with a worried frown.

 

“To put it in layman’s terms; the genes that affect his immune system are irregular,” Bruce replied. “I can’t tell yet if it’s because he’s a clone or if it’s a naturally occurring mutation.” 

 

“How serious of a problem is it?” Steve asked, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Honestly, I don’t have enough experience with this sort of thing to say,” Bruce admitted, glancing over at Jamie as the boy stared at the TV, his half constructed lego project cradled to his chest. “I’d really like to consult with a pediatric immunologist. Regardless of the cause, we need to have some idea of what we’re up against if we’re going to help him.”

 

“I know some good people,” Tony nodded. “We’ll go over my list.”

 

“If that’s okay with you, Steve?” Bruce asked hesitantly. The Captain stared back at him a moment as if surprised it was his decision.

 

“If there’s anything we can do for him, we should do it,” Steve nodded finally. “I just… can we not tell him? I don’t want him… they told him he was _broken_.”

 

“I won’t say anything to him,” Bruce promised. “But depending on what we find out, we might need to tell him something.”

 

“Look, whatever it is, we’ll straighten it out,” Tony insisted. 

 

“Not everything can be fixed,” Phil pointed out with a worried frown. 

 

“Yeah but basically he’s just Steve 2.0,” Tony huffed impatiently. “We have a fully functional prototype we can reverse engineer.” Steve turned a gaze on him that said he suffered fools without the slightest bit of gladness.

 

“Do not look at me like that,” Tony hissed, glancing at Jamie out of the corner of his eye before poking Steve in the chest.

 

“Children, back on task?” Phil prompted.

 

“Consult with someone you’re sure we can trust,” Steve sighed. “try not to give them anything that will make the situation worse, please?”

 

“I don’t need to give them his blood to get an answer on the results,” Bruce assured. “It’ll be fine.” Steve nodded.

 

“Jamie, I need to make a call, you’ll be okay here with Tony and Bruce, right?” Steve asked. The boy nodded at him as if surprised at the question and Steve gave a sharp jerk of his head before striding out of the room and disappearing down the hall.

 

“Is it me, or is he getting more weird even for him?” Tony asked drily. Phil pinned him with a disapproving frown.

 

“He’s just on edge after… everything,” Phil insisted, rubbing his forehead. “We’re all on edge.”

 

“He’s been on edge since we found Jamie,” Bruce corrected, he looked over his shoulder to make sure the boy was distracted before lowering his voice. “He’s starting to show visible signs of stress and he’s clearly not sleeping.”

 

“And Bruce is the authority on both of those,” Tony added, pointing at the other scientist.

 

“When exactly should we start worrying about this?” Bruce asked, a hint of frustration in his tone.

 

“We need to be patient,” Phil insisted firmly. “How would any of us feel in Steve’s position? How would you feel if someone suddenly dumped a small, helpless version of you in your lap?” Tony twitched, his face contorting in a horrified expression as Bruce let out a sigh.

 

“See, there’s a reason I disarmed the rocket launcher,” Tony protested. “And it was to make sure things like _that_ never happen!” Bruce let out a groan.

 

“Too much information, Tony,” he scolded, wincing as Phil stared at them both mutely.

 

“He just needs time,” Phil argued finally. “Things will settle down and he’ll be fine.”

 

“Bruce?” Jamie’s voice was hesitant and they turned to see him peering over the top of one of the lab benches again. 

 

“Yes?” Bruce asked, looking startled.

 

“The centrifuge is done,” Jamie reported. “And the cars on the TV stopped talking.” 

 

“Thanks,” Bruce answered with a nod.

 

“Well at least one of us isn’t on edge,” Tony snorted, rolling his eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Look who seems to be feeling better,” Jane observed, looking up from her computer as Thor strode into the lab, Jamie perched on one hip. She gave the boy a grin and he smiled back shyly, looking at his toes as Thor set him on the lab stool beside Jane, taking the one across from her for himself. 

 

“We made you lunch,” Thor declared, settling a shopping bag on the lab counter with a grin.

 

“Is it lunch time already,” Jane frowned in confusion.

 

“It is well after lunch, beloved,” Thor chided, unpacking sandwiches and fruit. “I went to speak to Philip and found he’d forgotten to eat as well. So I kidnapped his charge and we plotted to feed you both.” He set a neatly wrapped sandwich in front of her with a doting smile and paused to carefully peel back the butcher paper before placing the next sandwich in front of Jamie.

 

“You’re probably starving,” Jane sighed as Jamie tackled his food with unusual enthusiasm. “I’m going to give you some advice about this place. We’re kind of morons. We forget to eat and sleep and generally, unless Darcy or Steve or Thor reminds us, we’ll basically do nothing but work. So when you’re hungry, you really need to speak up.” Jamie glanced up at her with large blue eyes for a moment before fidgeting uncomfortably.

 

“Hey,” Jane leaned forward just a bit, tilting her head to make eye contact. “The rule here is that when you need something you’re supposed to tell someone. It’s important, it’s the most important rule of being on a team. You have to tell everyone else on the team what’s going on. Even if it’s something little.” Jamie relaxed visibly, watching her though his lashes as he munched down bits of apple Thor was slicing with a paring knife.

 

“You have a beautiful voice,” Jane added almost as an afterthought. “We like hearing it.”

 

“You’re very good with him,” Thor observed fondly. Jane blushed, throwing Jamie a look he returned in kind.

 

“I was a shy kid too,” She shrugged, giving the boy’s arm a light squeeze as she returned her attention to her lunch. 

 

“You will be an extraordinary mother,” Thor stated with conviction. Jane froze with her sandwich half way to her mouth, her eyes wide. Thor finished slicing up the apple before he noticed, his motions stilling.

 

“Have I said something amiss?” he asked cautiously.

 

“No,” Jane replied softly, setting down her sandwich, her brow furrowing. She looked at Jamie as if seeing him properly for the first time then at Thor, then back to Jamie once more.

 

“No,” she repeated, though there was a pronounced tension in her shoulders. Thor studied her for a long moment an increasingly worried expression on his face.

 

“You do not wish to be a mother,” he stated finally.

 

“I never said that,” Jane answered quickly.

 

“You do not need to,” Thor observed, his face a mixture of hurt and disappointment.

 

“I,” Jane drew in a breath, looking back at Jamie again. The boy was nibbling at his sandwich, his blue eyes staring at her as he silently chewed. “I never really thought about it. Seriously, I mean.”

 

“Perhaps we should speak of this later,” Thor suggested, his tone soft. Jane stared at him a long moment, biting her lip.

 

“No,” she decided, shaking her head. “No I think we really need to talk about this now.” 

 

“I do not think we should air our conflict in front of the boy,” He advised warily.

 

“Thor when do we ever actually fight?” Jane scolded. 

 

“Well,” his lips curled up in faint amusement. “You did strike me.”

 

“That was one time, and I was kind of in shock,” she huffed in exasperation. She turned back to Jamie, combing his hair out of his eyes with her fingers. “People don’t always agree. When they don’t they should try to talk about their problem and see if they can find a solution together. But that can be hard to do.”

 

“I am not sure there is anything to discuss,” Thor admitted.

 

“You want to have kids,” Jane stated.

 

“And it appears you do not,” He answered mournfully.

 

“I never said that,” She repeated. Jane let out a sigh, picking at her sandwich. “Let me ask you; Is this something that was expected of you at home? You’re a prince on Asgard, were you expected to find a queen and produce heirs and… all of that?”

 

“It was an expectation, yes,” Thor nodded. “But not a requirement. Even if I should have assumed the throne the choice to marry would have been my own and there would have been no shame in a childless house. But my father often insisted that a good king benefits much from the council of his queen and he often urged me to wed.”

 

“So you just assumed you’d have children,” Jane pointed out. 

 

“I gave it little thought at all until the day Volstagg’s son was born,” Thor admitted, a far off look in his eyes. “Brunnhilde handed me her first born, such a tiny thing, and the boy took hold of my finger with wide eyes.” Jane couldn’t help but smile at the fondness of his tone.

 

“And then he latched on to a fistful of my hair and like to have ripped it free shoving it in his mouth,” Thor admitted. Jane let out a musical laugh.

 

“And you were in love,” she observed.

 

“Oh, aye,” Thor shook his head with a self-depreciating smirk. “The boy still has me wrapped around his finger and he is a youth now.” Jane’s bright smile slipped slowly from her face.

 

“I guess I just never had a moment like that,” she admitted. “It never really seemed important.”

 

“Family groups,” Jamie stated, his brow furrowed as if he were sorting through some great puzzle.

 

“Yes?” Jane answered cautiously. 

 

“Phil said that families are different and you don’t have to have a mother and a father to be a family,” Jamie looked up at her.

 

“No, you don’t,” Jane agreed. “I’ve always believed you shouldn’t have kids if you’re not absolutely sure you want them.”

 

“And you don’t want them?” Jamie asked.

 

“I’m honestly not sure I’d be very good at it,” Jane admitted, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger. “I forget to eat, remember? Being a mom or a dad is a big responsibility. And my job here is a big responsibility too. I like to think I help a lot of people, keep them safe. I’m not sure I could give that up.”

 

“Jane, I would never presume upon your work,” Thor stated, his expression affronted. “I do have some experience caring for Volstagg’s little ones. I’m confident I could learn to manage my own well enough. Do you think me incapable?”

 

“No,” She paused, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Are you telling me that you _expect_ to handle most of the child care?”

 

“A warrior’s life has few demands,” Thor pointed out. “Fewer still here on earth where I am needed only in times of peril. Why should I not shoulder the lion’s share of the burden?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jane admitted. “I guess I just thought it would mostly fall on me.”

 

“And what a tragedy that would be to the good your research brings to your people,” Thor stated with a huff.

 

“I forget sometimes that things are different on Asgard,” she admitted. Thor gave her a hopeful smile and she rolled her eyes.

 

“You will think about it,” he didn’t word it as a question but she nodded anyway.

 

“Not right away though,” she added, a hint of pleading in her tone. “I need time to get used to the idea.” Thor nodded, but his expression was smug as if he’d already won.

 

“You’d be a good mom.”

 

Jane froze at the declaration and she turned to look at Jamie who was still nibbling at his sandwich.

 

“What makes you say that?” she asked curiously.

 

“You’re,” Jamie paused as if searching for the right words. “Fun.” he finally settled on. Jane’s expression softened and she leaned forward, brushing a kiss on his forehead.

 

“Thank you,” she replied. “So are you.” A soft blush colored Jamie’s cheeks and she let out a laugh as Thor gave the boy a gentle pat on the back.

 

“I should hope to have more lads than lasses, for you would have every last one of my daughters charmed before they took their first steps, young one.” Thor insisted brightly as Jamie’s blush deepened. Jane let out a groan.

 

“Don’t get any ideas about having half a dozen kids!” She scolded sternly. “You’re not getting any more than two!”

 

“Four?” Thor negotiated. Jamie stifled his giggle in his arm as Jane’s eyes narrowed threateningly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t you dare help him!” Clint scowled, leveling a finger at Darcy.

 

“I’m not helping him,” Darcy shrugged, her attention fixated on her STARKpad as she sat at the kitchen table. She looked up at Clint who was sitting on the counter and then at Jamie who was perched in one of the barstools, his Avengers Keds braced on the seat so that his knees were up near his shoulders. He was biting his lip, his brow furrowed as he stared at the screen of the bright pink 3DS as Bucky leaned over him, watching with a curious expression.

 

“Don’t you help him either,” Clint stated, mashing the buttons of his purple 3DS as he pointed at Bucky

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Bucky demanded, his lips curling only slightly as his eyes danced.

 

“You’re cracking up, Hawkguy,” Darcy declared, firmly. 

 

“I love you Darc, but no one asked you,” Clint replied.

 

“And after she was nice enough to let you borrow hers so you could both play,” Bruce shook his head as he chopped onions, tossing them into the frying pan on the stove.

 

“Bit ungrateful, isn’t he?” Darcy agreed, returning her attention to her STARKpad. 

 

“Is that why it’s pink?” Bucky asked curiously.

 

“Do not knock the pink, old man,” Darcy scolded.

 

“How is he doing this?” Clint demanded. Jamie bit his lip to hide his grin and Clint’s expression twisted back and forth between frustration and amusement. “How are you doing this?” he prodded, struggling to hide his smile.

 

“Search me,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ve been watching him play the last half hour and I still have no idea what this even is.”

 

“Clint, play nice with the other kids,” Natasha scolded lightly as she emerged from the pantry with a bottle of wine, fishing the corkscrew from the drawer.

 

“This is humiliating,” Clint groaned, letting his head fall back against the cabinet with a loud thunk.

 

“Little dramatic, isn’t he?” Bucky observed. Jamie looked up at him for only a moment before hunching his shoulders as he fidgeted in the chair.

 

“Aren’t we missing some people?” Tony asked, running his fingers through his messy hair as he shambled into the kitchen heading straight for the coffee machine.

 

“Jane’s down in the lab,” Darcy reported. “I think Betty is too. Thor said he’d come up and get them something later.”

 

“Steve and Phil are on their way,” Bucky added. “Is Pepper joining us?”

 

“No idea,” Tony shrugged, he snapped the k-cup machine shut and blinked, craning his neck to get a look at the screen of Clint’s 3DS

 

“You play Pokémon?” he asked incredulously. Clint bit back a curse.

 

“No, I lose at Pokémon!” He shot Jamie a glare but the boy only giggled, ducking his head over Darcy’s 3DS.

 

“He’s beat me, what?” Clint demanded. “Three times in a row?”

 

“Four,” Darcy corrected as Tony let out a snort of amusement. “Four times and you only won the first two because you are a lousy teacher.”

 

“This is humiliating,” Clint repeated, folding his arms over his chest. He watched Jamie for a long moment. “Best seven out of twelve?”

 

“You are not turning him into a video game junkie,” Bruce insisted firmly. “He can play until dinner’s ready, that’s it.”

 

“Jay, order him one of those things so he doesn’t have to steal Darcy’s.” Tony commanded. Jamie looked up at him with a glowing grin and Tony winked, raising his coffee cup to his lips.

 

“I shall have it delivered first thing in the morning,” JARVIS confirmed. Natasha handed the open bottle of wine to Bruce who poured a generous measure into the frying pan before handing it back to her as she sashayed across the kitchen to settle at the bar on the other side of Bucky, setting down a pair of wine glasses and filling each of them.

 

“What’s that look for?” Tony asked curiously, his eyes narrowing at Bruce who was watching Jamie and Clint with a calculating expression.

 

“He’s beating Clint,” Bruce observed, keeping his voice low.

 

“Yeah, so?” Tony shrugged. “About time someone did.”

 

“Clint’s as smart as we are,” Bruce pointed out. 

 

“Well he’s basically just… Steve,” Tony replied, sipping his coffee. “And Steve’s not…” His expression faltered and he blinked, the gears in his head whirling to life.

 

“They can’t have bothered teaching him lab procedure either,” Bruce added. “But he knows how to operate a centrifuge. He’d have to have learned that entirely from observation.”

 

“You think maybe Steve’s a hell of a lot smarter than he lets on?” Tony asked in a low voice with a curiously glee-filled grin.

 

“I don’t know,” Bruce shrugged. “You’ve seen the Rebirth data, he was pretty bright to begin with.”

 

“Yeah but all cognitive tests in the 40’s were heavily dependent on education,” Tony shook his head. “Which Cap didn’t have.”

 

“Point taken,” Bruce allowed, his expression turning thoughtful. They both turned their heads to look at Jamie and Tony gave a smug smile.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” he declared, turning and crossing the kitchen to lean on the bar. “What about the next time you’re down in the lab you give us a hand with a little brain game so we can see how smart you are?” Jamie looked up at him, his brow knitting before shifting in his seat to look at Bruce.

 

“We’d just give you some simple problems to solve, math and pictography,” Bruce insisted. “And our computer can record everything. It wouldn’t hurt.”

 

“Why is he your fan all of a sudden?” Tony demanded with a hurt look.

 

“Maybe because Bruce is the one who flattened a train for him?” Clint mocked, rolling his eyes.

 

“I bought him Pokémon,” Tony replied defensively.

 

“Not as cool as saving his life,” Clint insisted. “Just saying.” Bruce blushed, staring at the vegetables he was chopping.

 

“For the record, Bruce is pretty cool,” Darcy grinned, bumping Jamie’s shoulder gently with her own.

 

“It’s not going to hurt?” Jamie asked warily.

 

“You can totally trust Bruce,” Tony insisted. “He lies way less than I do.” Bruce let out an exasperated sound as Jamie seemed to consider this information a moment.

 

“Okay,” he shrugged, returning his attention to his game.

 

“All right,” Bruce nodded. “Jamie as soon as you’re done beating Clint this round, you need to wash up for dinner.”

 

“I’m going to win this round!” Clint insisted, the tip of his tongue peeping out between his lips.

 

“You’re really not,” Darcy shook her head sympathetically. Clint let slip a swear.

 

“Scrub a dub,” Darcy ordered, shooing Jamie off the bar stool. He hopped down, trotting toward the powder room without protest.

 

"He beat me!" Clint declared, dumbfounded. “Don’t think this is over kid!” he shouted after the boy. Jamie picked up speed, making a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

 

“It’s a good thing you’re a gracious looser,” Natasha observed drolly, sipping her wine.

 

“He beat my Hydreigon!” Clint threw his hands in the air. “With a Sylveon? How did that even happen?”

 

“You need to turn in your geek card, fake gamer boy,” Darcy shook her head.

 

“What the hell is happening to my life?” Clint demanded in frustration.

 

“Teach him archery,” Bucky suggested blandly. “You can still win at that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had several questions about Thor and his cultural views.
> 
> The MCU doesn't give us a lot to work with when it comes to culture on Asgard so what I've chosen to do is draw heavily from Norse myth and culture. Viking women, overall, were afforded liberties that were virtually unheard of in most of Europe at the time. They could serve as warriors, choose their lovers and/or husbands, file for divorce, own property, even hold titles. Viking society, though romanticized as sea faring, was largely agrarian and their communities tribal rather than national so women's rights varied from group to group. "Women's work" however usually included management of household finances, some farm work and hunting as well as the practice of magic.
> 
> We get a glimpse of that in Thor 2 when Thor takes Jane to be seen by the Asgardian Physicians, nearly all of them are female. Among the Pantheon, however, gender roles were even less enforced. I've chosen to interpret that Asgard itself was a free and equal society and some, though not all of that influence carried over into the Viking community that came to revere the alien visitors as gods. It's important to point out that both Odin and Loki practice magic despite it being seen as feminine and Sif was clearly one of Odin's favorites despite having a male dominated profession. It's at least logical then to infer that an advanced alien culture would have even less need for strictly enforced gender roles than any human society.
> 
> All that to say; Thor is totally okay with handling the midnight feedings and the baby laundry.


	12. 'Till the sun is in the sky

“Another all nighter?” Jane stepped lightly through the sliding lab door, a large, steaming, coffee mug clutched in each hand. Betty looked up from her microscope with a surprised expression, straightening and rubbing her back.

 

“I guess so,” she observed, glancing out the wide expanse of windows at the coming dawn that was just beginning to touch the jagged skyline. Jane held out one of the mugs to her and she grasped it, breathing in deep the scent of vanilla.

 

“You and Bruce fighting again?” Jane asked sympathetically, taking a sip of her own coffee.

 

“We don’t fight,” Betty corrected.

 

“No,” Jane allowed. “You disagree and avoid each other until one of you relents.” Betty rubbed her eyes.

 

“Sounds like fighting when you describe it like that,” She allowed, wincing.

 

“Imagine that,” Jane teased gently. Betty gave her a rueful smile.

 

“We had a disagreement about the future of our family,” Betty admitted.

 

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that Bruce has issues with fatherhood and his condition?” Jane replied. Betty heaved a sigh, nodding. “Well you have to admit, he has a point.”

 

“Don’t muck up my perfectly good delusion with logic, girlfriend,” Betty scolded as Jane tried not to laugh.

 

“You can commiserate with Thor,” Jane suggested, yawning. “He wants half a dozen.”

 

“I’d settle for one,” Betty stated emphatically.

 

“I like kids,” Jane admitted. “I really do. I’m just not sure it’s something I’d be good at.”

 

“We could swap,” Betty suggested with a shrug. Jane let out a belly laugh, collapsing into Betty’s sofa with a wide grin.

 

“Can you imagine trying to explain that concept to Thor?” she demanded in delight, Betty bit her lip to keep from laughing.

 

“It’s just as well, you’re too possessive anyway,” Betty teased, sliding off her lab stool and sinking into the sofa beside Jane, their shoulders just barely touching.

 

“Why do people who really, honestly love each other have such a hard time with this?” Jane asked curiously.

 

“Experience,” Betty replied. “It’s the defining factor, experience builds who we are and at the same time teaches us to build defenses and none of us take the same lessons away from the same experiences.” Jane nodded.

 

“I’m kind of relieved it’s Bruce and not me you’ve been avoiding,” Jane admitted, staring into her coffee mug. Betty gave her an apologetic look.

 

“It’s not really Bruce either,” she admitted, her lips twisting uncomfortably. “I don’t want to risk getting attached.”

 

“You think Steve’s going to give him up,” Jane observed, she gave a sigh, her shoulders slumping as Betty nodded.

 

“I don’t think I could take that right now,” Betty confessed. “It’s not the same as having one of your own but…”

 

“It’s not a bad substitute either, is it?” Jane questioned. She nodded in agreement.

 

“He’s adorable and sweet and I just want to squeeze him every time I’m around him,” Jane declared with a fond smile. Her face fell almost instantly. “Oh damn.”

 

“See?” Betty frowned. “Attached.”

 

“Well that was unexpected,” Jane admitted.

 

“At least you can tell Thor you want to have one of your own if you like,” Betty reminded bitterly. Jane slipped her arm though Betty’s, giving it a gently squeeze and Betty let her head sink to Jane’s shoulder with a sigh.

 

“Are you really that angry at him?” Jane asked presently.

 

“No,” Betty considered thoughtfully. “I’m angry at his father. I’m angry at mine. So much of this is their fault. I thought I’d gotten free of him but he’s still taking things from me. Bruce can’t get free of his father either and the man’s been dead for years. I’m starting to think you never can, they just haunt you forever.”

 

“You’re going to hide down here in the lab until Steve makes up his mind or Bruce tells you you can make babies,” Jane stated.

 

“That’s the plan, yeah,” Betty nodded. “On the up side I’m getting a ton of work done.”

 

“On the down side Bruce has to play with Tony,” Jane said with a frown.

 

“That’s Bruce’s problem, not mine,” Betty insisted.

 

“They try to upgrade my array one more time and neither of them are going to be producing any offspring,” Jane stated with conviction. Betty let out a laugh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Now you need to pay attention,” Clint insisted, sitting on the edge of the trampoline next to Jamie, his feet swinging back and forth over the gym floor. “because this is really important.”

 

“It’s good you’re not dramatic or anything,” Bucky observed, rolling his eyes from where he sat on Jamie’s other side.

 

“It’s appalling that his education has been this neglected,” Clint insisted, rummaging in the shopping bag beside him. “This is a Lunchable.” He handed the cardboard wrapped tray to the boy, tossing a second one to Bucky. Jamie turned it over in his hands, studying it carefully.

 

“What is it?” he asked, looking up at Clint.

 

“Okay, I take it back,” Bucky admitted, shaking his head as he peeled off the wrapping. “That is just sad.” Clint shot him a look.

 

“This, is the best lunch ever,” Clint insisted, righting the package so it was facing up in Jamie’s hands. “Here, let me show you how to open it.”

 

“You have any more of these?” Bucky asked, popping a slice of cheese in his mouth as he constructed a small tower of turkey and crackers. Clint shot him a withering look before reaching into the bag and tossing him a second tray.

 

“You make little cracker sandwiches like this,” Clint explained, collecting meat and cheese from his own Lunchable and alternating them. While his hands were busy Bucky reached over Jamie, snagging one of Clint’s pepperoni and popping it in his mouth.

 

“Bitch, don’t touch my Lunchables!” Clint scowled.

 

“Don’t listen to the foul mouthed carney,” Bucky declared, covering Jamie’s ears with his hands as he chewed. Clint reached over, stealing a slice of cheese. Jamie let out a giggle, munching his bologna crackers as the pair tussled.

 

“You had pepperoni!” Bucky defended. “It’s like a siren call.”

 

“I am going to kick your butt, Barnes,” Clint insisted, the both of them descending into hand flapping at each other over the boy’s head.

 

“Did you guys bring a responsible adult down here with you?” Steve asked, appearing in the doorway of the gym with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Bucky and Clint looked at each other before both pointing down at Jamie. Steve let out a laugh.

 

“You want one?” Clint offered, holding out a tray of Lunchables. Steve shook his head.

 

“Actually I was wondering if I could borrow you a moment?” he asked hesitantly.

 

“Something up?” Bucky asked worriedly.

 

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged, glancing back at Clint. “That’s why I thought I’d ask our resident super spies.” Bucky nodded in understanding and Clint slid off the trampoline.

 

“Don’t think I won’t shoot you if you touch my food,” Clint threatened, following Steve a few yards away. Bucky only made a face at him, shoving a stack of meat and cheese in his mouth.

 

“JARVIS has picked up three attempted breeches of the security monitoring systems in the last two days,” Steve reported, keeping his voice low.

 

“Well that’s unsettling,” Clint admitted, his expression turning thoughtful. “Why monitoring? Why not just go for the jugular and take out the automated defenses?”

 

“No idea,” Steve declared. “I thought it was weird too. I asked JARVIS to let me know if he spotted anything unusual. I mean, there are about fifty to a hundred hacking attempts a day here, it’s not like it’s anything JARVIS doesn’t usually deal with any other day of the week.”

 

“It’s just an odd door to be breaking into,” Clint nodded in agreement. “You think it means something?”

 

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “Spying is really not my area.”

 

“I’ll talk to Phil and Nat,” Clint promised. Steve nodded in agreement.

 

“If you could leave the rest of the team out of it?” Steve requested, glancing over at Jamie. “Considering what this probably is, it could get ugly and I don’t want to involve anyone I don’t have to. Better that they can deny that they know anything about it.”

 

“Good plan,” Clint agreed. “I’ll check my usual sources, see what I can find.”

 

“Hey punk!” Bucky let out a choked laugh and both Clint and Steve looked up to see Jamie holding his tray of Lunchables away with one hand, waving Bucky off with the other. Clint hid his grin in his hand as Steve’s face scrunched up in a struggle not to laugh.

 

“Damn, that’s good to see,” Clint remarked shaking his head.

 

“For both of them,” Steve agreed as Clint nodded. “That’s the Bucky I used to know.”

 

“I think Jamie’s been good for him. He’s a little character once you get him going,” Clint grinned. “You must have really been something as a kid.” Steve winced.

 

“Cap?”

 

“I just,” Steve’s voice trailed off helplessly. “You grew up rough, you know what it’s like.”

 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded in agreement, giving Steve a wary look.

 

“I don’t want that for him,” Steve admitted. “The last thing in the world I want is for him to be me.” Clint wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was a widely held opinion by mothers everywhere that Captain America was the sort of guy you wanted your kids to be exactly like. Clint had even been in the odd cafe and heard parents pull the “What would Captain America say if he could see you?” card. Clint had found it a little more hysterical than he should have, mostly because the kid in question had been crawling around under the tables. Clint thought he rather had a good idea of what Cap would say, provided you could get Steve Rogers to stop crawling around on the floor playing with the kids and get an actual answer.

 

“Did you and Phil ever think about, you know?” Steve interrupted his unintended reverie awkwardly, waving a hand in Jamie’s direction.

 

“Having a family you mean?” Clint smiled back. Steve nodded. “We talked about it a few times. Phil would love to be a dad and you know me, I’m just a big overgrown kid.” Steve let out a snort of amusement at the wide grin on Clint’s face.

 

“We’re sort of nervous about dragging a kid into our current lifestyle,” Clint admitted somewhat sadly. “We didn’t rule it out, and I think if the opportunity presented itself Phil would jump on it in a heartbeat. We just weren’t going to pursue any of the traditional methods until at least one of us wasn’t trying to actively get killed on a weekly basis.”

 

“I think about that a lot since,” Steve shrugged, sighing heavily. “He’d be better off somewhere safer.”

 

“Somewhere safer doesn’t have a family, Cap,” Clint reminded gently.

 

“Fury let me know yesterday that one of the senior researchers and her husband out at the new Pegasus facility are willing to take him,” Steve admitted, his voice cracking only slightly. Clint struggled to hide his flinch. The brand new state of the art facility was remote and so well stocked it was practically its own town. Pegasus was the height of scientific research in the world and anyone lucky enough to get in never left. The situation couldn’t be more ideal.

 

“I read the profiles Fury sent over,” Steve continued. “They seem like nice people. He’d have a family, he’d even get to go to school with other kids. Fury offered to put me in touch with them if it would help.” 

 

“Steve,” Clint swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn’t been prepared for the idea of Jamie actually leaving to hurt this badly. “You’re his family.” Steve shook his head with a sigh.

 

“You know, you’re the one who just admitted that you and Phil weren’t sure your careers would be fair to a child,” Steve pointed out, not harshly. “And you guys would be fantastic parents.”

 

“Look, I understand if all of this is blindsiding you and you don’t feel like you’re up to it,” Clint offered gently.

 

“It isn’t about that.”

 

“I even understand why you might hesitate just a little bit to, well, let anyone close again,” He added as Steve let out a soft groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean, you lost everybody, I can see why you wouldn’t want to risk that again.”

 

“Clint,” Steve shook his head.

 

“He’s an amazing kid,” Clint insisted. “If you just let yourself…” Steve’s shoulders stiffened visibly and his spine straightened like a soldier standing at attention.

 

“I’m going to check in with Natasha about our security issue,” he stated. “She has more background with this than any of us. I’ll keep you posted.” He turned on his heel, striding away.

 

“Steve,” Clint called after him as he headed toward the doors. 

 

“I meant what I said,” Steve turned back, a touch of wistfulness in his expression. “You’re _great_ with him. You really are. You and Phil should… think about it.” Without another word he turned, disappearing down the hall. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Ok, I just need to calibrate,” Tony’s voice trailed off with a frown as his fingers danced over the holoprojections.

 

“Give me a second to get these on!” Bruce protested, carefully sticking an electrode patch to Jamie’s temple. “That’s not uncomfortable, is it?” Jamie shook his head, looking up at Bruce with a thoughtful expression.

 

“I’m like a kid with a new toy here and you’re keeping me off the playground,” Tony whined. “What’s this?” He waved his hand though the air and the equation 8-2= sprang to life.

 

“Six,” Jamie answered instantly.

 

“I think he’s better at math than you,” Bruce observed, struggling to hide his smile. Tony shot him a look before returning his attention Jamie.

 

“So we’re going to work some puzzles and the computer is going to record everything,” Bruce explained. “It’s like a game, so you want to get as many answers right as fast as you can. Got it?” Jamie nodded.

 

“If we got an impressive baseline do you think we could talk Steve into doing this?” Tony asked with a delighted grin.

 

“Good luck with that,” Bruce laughed.

 

“If you have fun you’ll help me put the bite on him, right?” Tony teased, ruffling Jamie’s hair. The boy shrugged, glancing away. “Come on, who can resist those big doe eyes of yours?”

 

“I don’t think Steve likes me very much,” Jamie admitted in a small voice. Tony balked, blinking at him.

 

“Jamie, what makes you think that?” Bruce asked gently, his brow furrowed in concern.

 

“He,” the boy faltered, biting his lip. “He doesn’t want me to be here.”

 

“You’re going to have to give Steve a break, kiddo,” Tony said soothingly, pulling up a lab stool and sitting so that he was eye level with the boy. Bruce placed the last electrode, his hand gently smoothing Jamie’s hair back. “You’re kind of freaking him out a little bit. He doesn’t dislike you, I promise. He’s just kind of… scared.” Jamie threw him a disapproving look that was an all too familiar one and Bruce bit back his smile.

 

“Nobody’s ever been scared of me before,” the boy insisted, scratching at his elbow uneasily.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s complicated,” Tony admitted. He sighed rubbing his face. “It’s, our life, it’s dangerous and in a lot of ways it’s dangerous for you to be here with us.”

 

“Because I have his genes?” Jamie asked. Tony stared back at him blankly a moment.

 

“You know about that, huh?” Tony questioned, keeping his voice even. Jamie nodded but didn’t say anything. “That’s part of it. Do you understand why?”

 

“The researchers said we were all… templates,” Jamie answered, struggling for the right words. “We were how you make super soldiers.”

 

“There are a lot of bad people that would take you if they could,” Tony declared. “I don’t like saying it but it’s the truth, and we Stark men don’t sugar coat the truth. I think Steve’s a little more scared of that than the rest of us. I’m pretty confident that you’re as safe here as you can be.”

 

“That’s why we were all frightened the night you ran,” Bruce stated gently, switching on his equipment and fiddling with the settings. Jamie looked up at him with huge blue eyes before staring at his feet.

 

“I’m… sorry.” he said softly.

 

“It’s okay, we know,” Bruce assured, rubbing his back gently.

 

“Steve’s a good guy,” Tony admitted grudgingly. “The best kind. I’m kind of a screw up, but in spite of that he’s still one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He doesn’t hold mistakes against people. It’s just that if anything happened to you, he’d feel responsible.”

 

“Is he going to send me away?” Jamie asked, swallowing.

 

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “If he thought it was the best way to keep you safe and happy he might. Captain America looks after his own, kid. He’ll do whatever he thinks he needs to do to protect you.”

 

“I… like it here,” Jamie confessed.

 

“We like you too,” Tony gave him a smile, ruffling his hair again . “Don’t worry about Steve, okay? I’ve only ever know him to do the right thing.” He paused, his eyes rolling in irritation.

 

“It’s a little annoying,” Tony admitted finally, Jamie bit his lip as Bruce chuckled.

 

“I’m set up,” Bruce remarked.

 

“Show time!” Tony said with a grin, reaching out and grasping a handful of holographic tiles and scattering them in the air in front of Jamie. “Put these babies in order.” Jamie closed a hand around one of the tiles, his face lighting up as he moved it through the air. He grasped another tile, his eyes fairly dancing with delight as he set them together, reaching for more with the ecstatic motions of a child with a new toy.

 

“Okay, that’s kind of impressive,” Bruce admitted in a low voice, pouring over the readings as Jamie worked at the puzzle. 

 

“I think we’re going to have to make room in our Genius Candyland for some new members,” Tony agreed. Jamie’s face broke in a grin as he finished the puzzle and he turned to look at Tony and Bruce.

 

“Good job, next one!” Tony praised, waving his hand and bringing up a fresh puzzle that Jamie tackled immediately.

 

“You know, it’s a shame,” Bruce mused. “That’s a pretty high score for problem solving. If this is an accurate representation of what Steve was like as a child he’s probably always had an aptitude for deductive reasoning.”

 

“He could have been a spectacular clinical researcher,” Tony agreed. “You know, he’s not that old, I could get him into MIT… or Berkley, I think someone at Berkley owes me favors.”

 

“Can you imagine him on a college campus?” Bruce asked in amusement. 

 

“Can you imagine him in a fraternity?” Tony’s expression was downright obscene. “I swear I would pay for his education and then pay him to get his education just so I could see that.”

 

“Who’s education?” Steve asked, appearing in the doorway. Tony jumped.

 

“Steve,” Bruce stated, his eyebrows disappearing in his shaggy hairline.

 

“Done!” Jamie declared again, an impish expression on his face as he turned around.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Steve gaped, he mouthed wordlessly a moment as he stared at Jamie, sitting on the lab stool, one hand brushing the connecting wire from one of the electrodes back from his face.

 

“Steve,” Bruce held up a hand, his voice calm and even.

 

“Why are there wires on his head?” Steve demanded angrily, pointing at the boy.

 

“Hold on, it’s not what you think!” Tony intervened. “We were just running some cognitive tests! They don’t even hurt, do they hurt?”

 

“No.” Jamie shook his head, staring up at Steve who looked as if he were on the verge of a full blown tantrum.

 

“You have him hooked up to a machine!!” Steve protested angrily. “My god, what were you thinking?”

 

“Steve they’re put on with a special adhesive,” Bruce placated. “They’re hypoallergenic, they’re just recording his brain functions while he plays some games. It’s perfectly harmless.”

 

“They come right off!” Tony insisted, pulling the backing off of one of the spare electrodes and sticking it to his forehead. “See? They don’t… ow!!!!” he let out a yelp as he pulled the electrode free, rubbing his forehead where a red mark was blooming.

 

“You have to wait for the glue to set, Tony,” Bruce reminded in exasperation.

 

“Shit,” Tony swore, trying to throw the electrode at the trash. It stuck to his finger tips and he flapped his hand uselessly trying to dislodge it.

 

“Get those things off of him!” Steve ordered his eyes narrowing.

 

“Geeze…” Tony rolled his eyes, sticking the spare electrode to Bruce’s lab coat. The physicist gave him a withering look. “He has a pretty brain! We just wanted a look at it!!”

 

“Steve,” Bruce asked gently. “Did the other kids torment you for being too smart?” Steve mouthed at him with a hurt expression.

 

“Holy shit, they totally did, didn’t they?” Tony gaped. 

 

“We found him in a lab!” Steve reminded indignantly. “Where they were experimenting on him! Now you get those things off of him right now!” He took three long strides across the room, kneeling on the floor in front of the boy.

 

“Jamie, listen to me,” Steve insisted, as Bruce set about carefully removing the electrodes. “If someone asks you to do something that makes you afraid or just uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it. Even if it’s Tony and Bruce, no matter who it is, you have the right to say no. I’m not talking about responsibilities, like brushing your teeth or putting your things away. We all have to do that. But if someone asks you to do something and you’re actually scared to do it, you don’t have to. You tell them no, you come and tell me.” 

 

“I don’t mind,” Jamie said softly, glancing up at Bruce who was peeling away the last electrode. “It didn’t hurt.” Steve stared at him for a long moment before drawing in an unsteady breath.

 

“This never happens again,” Steve declared, pinning Tony and Bruce with a scowl.

 

“Steve,” Tony sighed placatingly.

 

“It was a lapse in judgment,” Bruce offered quickly. “We won’t run any more tests without discussing it with you first.” Tony gave Bruce an eye roll before sighing, nodding in agreement as he turned back to Steve.

 

“No more games?” Jamie interrupted, a touch of disappointment in his tone. Steve’s face fell and he stared at the boy with a guilty expression.

 

“You can play all the game you like,” Bruce insisted, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “We just won’t take any cortical readings. It’s fine.”

 

“I promised you nothing like the lab would ever happen again,” Steve declared softly, his eyes shining. “Tony and Bruce would never hurt you, never. I just didn’t want you to be scared.”

 

“We probably shouldn’t have hooked you up to the computer,” Tony conceded, bracing his hands on his knees. “We just get excited about science sometimes and we don’t think about how things that are perfectly safe might seem a little scary.”

 

“You said it wouldn’t hurt,” Jamie stated.

 

“Jamie you do understand that just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean you have to agree to it?” Bruce prompted. Jamie looked up at him with that blank expression that was becoming all too familiar.

 

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Tony swallowed, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve nodded. “It’s… no harm done. We’re just going to have to work on teaching him… everything.” Steve said the last word with a pained huff, sinking down on Tony’s desk chair.

 

“Are you mad?” Jamie asked worriedly. Biting his lip.

 

“No,” Steve shook his head, rolling closer. “No, absolutely not. We just forget sometimes that you still have a lot to learn. And that’s okay, you’re doing good, really really good. You should be proud.” Jamie gave him a shy smile.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony insisted. “The grown ups kind of dropped the ball a little.” Jamie looked up at him with wide eyes and Tony rolled his eyes just a little, reaching out to sweep the boy into his arms.

 

“You’re a very brave, very smart guy,” Tony told him, rubbing his back. “and I admire that a lot. But you don’t have to be brave all the time. It’s okay to admit when you’re scared or worried. We’ll all still be proud of you.” Jamie snuggled deeper into his chest, his nose pressed to Tony’s neck.

 

“You’re getting really good at the hugging,” Tony observed after a moment. Jamie let out a muffled giggle, his arms tightening around Tony’s neck.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Hi honey I’m home,” Phil called out drily as the door to their suite opened. Clint let out a laugh, glancing up at the clock that read 9:20pm.

 

“And how was your day, darling?” He teased, closing the oven door, satisfied the frozen lasagna was done. Phil had shucked his jacket and was loosening his tie in that familiar fashion that always left a warm feeling in Clint’s chest. The first time he’d ever seen Phil pull off his tie, Clint had been bleeding out from a bullet wound in his leg and the tie met its end as a tourniquet. Clint had fallen hard, though he hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time. He felt it was apt that most of their romantic moments involved espionage and firearms. 

 

“Fifty robotic iguanas broke out of R&D at The Sandbox,” Phil replied, impassively. 

 

“Well that sucks,” Clint admitted, slicing into the garlic bread.

 

“They torched the new quinjet prototype,” Phil admitted. “The department heads are coming in tomorrow so I can make SHIELD’s displeasure known in the debrief. How about you?”

 

“Nat tried to break my neck in our afternoon workout,” Clint replied casually. “Tony set fire to Jane’s new deep space array, Jane set fire to Tony.” Phil let out a snort of amusement as he hung up his suit jacket, emerging from the bedroom in his stocking feet and rolling up his dress shirt sleeves.

 

“I’d have paid to see that,” Phil admitted, rounding the sofa.

 

“Oh, Steve pretty much asked us if we'd adopt his kid,” Clint added, trying to sound offhand. Phil stalled mid step, his spine stiffening. He stood there unmoving for a long moment before slowly sinking down on the sofa.

 

“Just to be clear here,” He asked hoarsely, staring at the floor. “Would we be actually considering this seriously?” Clint drew in a long slow breath, getting two beers out of the fridge and crossing the living room to slump down beside Phil.

 

“We said we'd consider it if the opportunity ever came around,” He reminded hesitantly, twisting the cap off one of the bottles before handing it to Phil. “So I think, yeah, maybe we should.”

 

“He’s a great kid,” Phil admitted, not daring to look up. Clint shifted closer, letting their knees bump together. 

 

“He’s a fantastic kid,” Clint agreed, keeping his voice carefully neutral despite his assertion. “He’s smart, he’s brave, he’s got a noble streak a mile wide. He’s like a… tiny little Captain America.” 

 

“Like Steve,” Phil corrected. Clint couldn’t disagree with him. He looked down at the beer bottle he was holding. They were silent for a long minute until finally Clint reached out and took hold of Phil’s hand. It wasn’t shaking but Clint could feel the tension running through Phil’s body.

 

“I want to say yes, Clint,” Phil admitted, griping tight to him. “I want to say yes so badly, I…” His voice trailed off.

 

“Yeah me too,” Clint nodded. “I'm sensing a but.”

 

“It's not what's best for Jamie,” Phil insisted, conviction clear in his tone. “And it's not what's best for Steve either. Whatever he's hiding, whatever he's not telling us, it's eating him up. If he doesn’t deal with it and Jamie stays here, it’ll only be worse for both of them.”

 

“Fury has a family out at the Pegasus facility ready to adopt him,” Clint offered. “Steve told me.” Phil let out a shaky breath and Clint abandoned all pretense, setting his bottle on the coffee table and wrapping both arms around Phil, curling up against his chest.

 

“You would be a great dad, Phil,” Clint declared as Phil’s arms tangled around him. “The absolute best.”

 

“This could be our only chance,” Phil admitted, his cheek pressed to Clint’s hair. “You were in foster care. You know.” Clint winced. He knew Phil was right. Child services in most states would rather keep kids in group homes than deal with the liability and hassle of placing them for adoption. Neither of them were young any more either. 

 

“We could still say yes,” Clint insisted. “Maybe if Steve has more time, he can work out whatever’s tearing him up.”

 

“Maybe,” Phil nodded, his arms tightening around Clint’s shoulders. 

 

“I don’t want to let him go, Phil,” Clint admitted, his voice breaking. “I think about not seeing him again and I get sick to my stomach. I’d hang onto him any way I could and I don’t care if it’s what’s best for him or not.”

 

“I know” Phil nodded. “me too.” Phil’s voice finally broke and Clint closed his eyes, willing himself not to notice the fact that his hair was growing damp beneath Phil’s cheek. He took a deep breath and then another, counting the tick of the clock as his heart raced.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted kids this badly?” Clint asked finally as Phil ran his fingers through Clint’s hair in a comforting rhythm. Phil drew in an unsteady breath.

 

“I didn’t realize until now,” he answered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Children who have spent their formative years in conditions of incarceration or torture tend to develop the inability to understand or express personal boundaries. They literally do not understand that their fear or apprehension is a trigger sign that the situation may be unsafe. Additionally they might also fear either showing weakness or disappointing adults because they have learned that both will likely cause the infliction of pain. It is hard to say at this point if Jamie is complying because he wants to or because he's been conditioned to and he might not even know himself. While Tony and Bruce certainly didn't mean any harm, Steve, who tends to think through the bigger picture, sees the inherent danger in talking Jamie into anything that isn't a necessity.


	13. If you did not twinkle so

“I really appreciate this,” Steve insisted, his expression the slightest bit uneasy.

 

“Cap we’ve been through enough by now that you have to know I’ll have your back,” Natasha answered with a gentle smile.

 

“I know,” Steve’s cheeks colored. “This is pretty above and beyond.”

 

“You’ll owe me one,” Natasha stated after a thoughtful pause. 

 

“Right,” Steve nodded firmly. He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself. “Let’s do this.” Natasha nodded in agreement and pressed the control on the STARKpad. 

 

The video screen in the living room flickered to life.

 

“Captain!” The man in his mid forties wore a bright grin as he sat on the sofa in a homey if slightly well worn den. There was a teddy bear mashed under one of the couch cushions that looked as if it might have been there long enough to have been misplaced and a book about dragons with a brightly colored cover peeped out from under a copy of Popular Mechanics on the coffee table. The man sported a lengthy scar down his neck that disappeared beneath his collar and might have made him look menacing if it weren’t for his warm expression.  “It’s good to hear from you! Anna, honey, Captain Rogers is on.”

 

“Coming!” A woman’s voice called back.

 

“Good morning Rick,” Natasha said with her kindest smile.

 

“Tasha!” The man grinned. “It’s good to see you! How long’s it been?”

 

“Three years,” Natasha gave him a kind smile. “Right after Lima. How’s the new leg?”

 

“Ah, I can’t complain,” Rick shrugged, he tapped on his left leg, a hollow metal sound ringing out. “Security consultant’s a way cushier job than field agent.”

 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Captain,” the bright eyed brunette settled on the sofa beside Rick with a warm smile. “It’s a school morning.”

 

“Is that really Captain America?” a breathless female voice demanded, brown eyes under a crop of black hair peered over the back of the couch widening to twice their normal size. “Oh my gosh!”

 

“Julia’s a fan,” Rick shook his head. “School, now young lady.” Julia let out a groan, scuttling out of the frame.

 

“Nobody’s going to believe this!” the girl lamented.

 

“We all work for SHIELD!” her mother reminded. “You could say Captain Rogers stopped in for breakfast and _everyone_ would believe it!”

 

“Oh! Can I say that?” Julia pleaded, appearing in the frame again.

 

“Go,” her mother ordered, pointing toward the door. Julia let out a groan, turning on her heel and hoisting her Lisa Frank unicorn back pack onto her shoulder.

 

“For the record, they’re normally way better parents than this,” Julia offered, leaning back in front of the camera. 

 

“Julia!” Rick scolded as Steve covered his mouth to hide his laugh.

 

“Going!” She squeaked, scampering away again.

 

“I’m sorry to disrupt your morning,” Steve apologized sincerely.

 

“It’s fine,” Rick insisted. “This was easier than prying Anna out of the lab.”

 

“Thank you dear,” Anna stated, glaring at her husband. “Between you and our daughter we’ve managed to completely sabotage this interview in under three minutes.”

 

“We can’t have completely sabotaged it,” Rick insisted with a flirty smile at his wife. “He hasn’t hung up.” Anna gave him a half scolding look before turning back to the screen.

 

“Hello, Agent Romanov, it’s so good to see you again,” Anna gave Natasha a fond smile.

 

“It’s nice to see you too Doctor Brook,” Natasha replied. “I see they’re keeping you on your toes.”

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Anna answered her finger’s tangling with Ricks.

 

“I’m not sure what Director Fury might have told you,” Steve began hesitantly.

 

“Just that there was a situation where SHIELD might need to place a special needs child with a family in a secure facility and the placement would need to be long term,” Anna related. “He said that for security purposes he couldn’t reveal more.”

 

“Of course we were eager to get on the list.” Rick added.

 

“The child in question has some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and some mild social assimilation problems resulting from long term incarceration.” Natasha related. “He also has some long term health concerns we haven’t completely identified yet. We’re trying to determine if it’s best to leave him where he is or place him somewhere in a more isolated environment.”

 

“Oh it’s a boy then,” Anna’s eyes lit up.

 

“You volunteered to potentially adopt a child without knowing his age or gender?” Steve asked in surprise. “Or anything about him?”

 

“We can’t have children of our own,” Rick admitted, giving his wife’s hand a squeeze. “We adopted Julia after a mission in Mumbai that went south for my team. It wasn’t exactly planned.”

 

“It’s not like you get to pick and choose when you have them yourself anyway,” Anna stated practically. “We’ve been considering adopting again for a while.”

 

“Every time Julia brings it up at dinner,” Rick admitted. Anna covered her mouth with her hand.

 

“How’s she liking Pegasus?” Natasha asked. 

 

“She wasn’t too pleased at first but she’s settled in, made some new friends,” Rick nodded. “I think having a nearly full time stay at home dad helped.”

 

“In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit that I spend too much time in the lab,” Anna shook her head. “When I was stationed at the Triskelion she barely saw me, I think she was afraid this would be more of the same.”

 

“We live with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner,” Steve declared knowingly. Anna let out a musical laugh.

 

“We don’t want to get your hopes up prematurely,” Natasha stated, her tone more businesslike. “We’re looking for alternatives at this point if the boy doesn’t settle in well where he is now. We have a few more interviews today too.”

 

“Natasha,” Steve hissed.

 

“I’m covering your back,” She murmured against his ear. “If you don’t like them you have an out.”

 

“Of course, we understand completely,” Rick assured.

 

“Director Fury was clear that it was by no means a certainty.” Anna added. “We felt if you were involved personally, Captain, he must be terribly important to the Initiative.”

 

“He is,” Natasha confirmed. “Wherever he ends up, the Avengers will be remaining a part of his life for the foreseeable future.”

 

“I’m sure Julia will have her Avengers tea set out and polished the second she hears that,” Rick grinned in amusement. “She painted it herself.”

 

“It’s certainly no hardship,” Anna agreed, elbowing him playfully. “I’m curious that none of the Avengers are interested in adopting him.”

 

“That, could also be a possibility,” Steve admitted. Natasha stiffened only slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Rick and Anna exchanged a look.

 

“We would be ecstatic to adopt,” Anna stated. “But we completely understand why you wouldn’t want to move him if he’s learning to adapt where he is.”

 

“We have some experience in the area, Julia’s situation,” Rick’s voice trailed off and he shrugged with a sad smile. “We’d love to have him, but we know first hand how delicate these things can be.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Steve nodded.

 

“Steve or I will give you a call if there’s any change in the situation,” Natasha declared.

 

“Of course,” Rick nodded. “Take care of yourself, Tasha. Captain, it was good to meet you.”

 

“It was nice to meet you folks too,” Steve nodded. “And thank you.” Natasha switched off the video feed and Steve slumped back in the sofa, rubbing his sweaty palms over his jeans.

 

“You didn’t say you knew them,” he stated.

 

“Rick lost his leg shielding me from a building explosion,” Natasha stated, matter of fact. Steve balked visibly. “I probably wouldn’t have made it. I didn’t think it was fair to you to taint your first impression of them.”

 

“They seem like great people,” he admitted. 

 

“They’re the best.” She nodded.

 

“Do you think Jamie’d be happy there?” Steve asked seriously.

 

“I think he would want for nothing that was truly important,” She answered. Steve leaned farther back in the cushions, staring up at the ceiling as he let out a shaky breath.

 

“I only want what’s best for him,” Steve confessed.

 

“I know, Cap,” she nodded.

 

“How come that’s so hard to figure out?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“He didn’t,” Pepper’s brow furrowed in a worried frown.

 

“He did,” Phil nodded, picking at his grilled salmon. Pepper waved off their waiter before he could approach, refiling their wine glasses herself as Phil let his eye wander out the window. 

 

“Well that’s distressing,” she admitted, sipping her wine thoughtfully. “How does Clint feel about it?” 

 

“You know,” Phil gave her a rueful look. “I thought you asked me to lunch so that we could discuss how I feel.”

 

“No you didn’t,” She scolded practically. “You hate talking about how you feel. And it doesn’t matter because I know you well enough that I already know how you feel, so let’s cut back to Clint. 

 

“He’s already so attached that it’s going to break his heart if we don’t say yes,” Phil admitted.

 

“He’s had precious little to attach himself to,” Pepper pointed out. “Just you and Natasha, and now his team.” Phil nodded.

 

“I’m not naive,” Phil admitted. “traditional couples have a hard time adopting. I’m not foolish enough to think we wouldn’t face even more obstacles, especially considering our ages and backgrounds. This is very likely the only time someone’s going to make this kind of offer to us.”

 

“And whatever you say, it looks like Steve’s dead set against keeping him himself,” Pepper observed.

 

“And there’s the problem,” Phil related with a pensive frown. “If I had a reason why, I’d feel like I could make a decision. But every time I’ve tried to bring it up Steve’s evaded or sidestepped or just flat out retreated.”

 

“Steve’s father died when he was an infant,” she observed thoughtfully.

 

“Steve never knew him,” he nodded in confirmation.

 

“His mother must have been an impressive young woman,” Pepper stated considering her plate pensively. “Raising an ill child alone in 1920’s Brooklyn. Maybe he just genuinely doesn’t feel like he can live up to that standard. Even with everything modern medicine can do, it’s not going to make that part of it any easier.”

 

“He’s seen first hand how difficult the single parent road is,” Phil agreed. “And if I was sure that was all it was, I swear I wouldn’t hesitate.” 

 

“We forget sometimes that he’s still fairly young,” Pepper remarked. “He might just be intimidated.”

 

“I never noticed until Clint pointed it out,” Phil admitted hesitantly. “Steve puts him to bed and gets him dressed, sits up with him when he’s sick, feeds him, puts on his bandaids, deals with the nightmares, handles the panic attacks.”

 

“Has there been more than just the one?” Pepper’s brow furrowed in worry.

 

“No thank god,” Phil shook his head. “Watching a six year old with asthma have a breakdown isn’t something I’d wish on anyone. Steve was in my office though practically before I realized there was a problem.”

 

“It makes sense that he’d have JARVIS keep him apprised.” Pepper’s expression turned calculating. “Had you thought about asking him?”

 

“I hate putting JARVIS on the spot like that.” Phil confessed.

 

“JARVIS walks his line impeccably well,” Pepper answered with a knowing look. “You might not have picked up on it, but he has no problem making a judgement call about honoring the letter of his instructions rather than their spirit.”

 

“So when I told him not to mention to anyone that I hadn’t slept last night and went into my office three hours early,” Phil’s voice trailed off.

 

“He cheerfully informed me that you would likely be free for lunch!” Pepper shot him her best smile. “See how this works?”

 

“I’m beginning to,” Phil let out a sigh. “The point is; All the really dirty work of parenting, Steve’s there. Jamie plays with Clint, with Thor, he goes to the gym with Bucky or Natasha. He reads with me. He even goofs off in the lab with Tony and Bruce. The moment the fun starts, Steve’s gone.”

 

“Well times have changed a lot,” Pepper mused. “maybe he’s just not sure,”

 

“I taught him how to color,” Phil interrupted blandly.

 

“All right,” Pepper paused, taking a sip of her wine. “I’m fairly alarmed now.”

 

“We have that in common,” Phil agreed.

 

“You know, he might really not want to be a parent,” Pepper suggested. “it would have been an unpopular notion when he was young, maybe he’s a little ashamed.”

 

“And he’s taking on the responsibilities out of a sense of duty,” Phil considered. His brow furrowed in concentration. “I might actually buy into that if I hadn’t seen the panic attack.”

 

“How so?” Pepper asked curiously.

 

“I’ve seen that expression on a parent’s face before,” Phil related hesitantly. “When my sister was eight, she was in a car accident. I can remember being at the hospital, and mom with this, powerless, look in her eyes. She’d have done anything to fix it, and she couldn’t. Whatever’s going on in Steve’s head, I don’t think it’s about what he wants.”

 

“I don’t think we’re going to know what’s going on here unless he tells us,” Pepper admitted finally. 

 

“Great,” Phil nodded, stabbing his salmon with his fork. “how are we going to go about doing that?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jamie let out a squeal of delight that was almost piercing and Clint grinned, a laugh bubbling up from his own chest. He spun on the ball of his foot, running back across the narrow beam of the play fort, stopping in the middle and jack-knifing into a slow motion cartwheel. Jamie let out a gasp, his eyes wide as he clung to the rope net beneath Clint, struggling to get enough traction on the sides of the net to climb up onto the beam beside him.

 

“Oh no you don’t, rug rat!” Clint protested, swinging off the beam and tumbling into the net beside the boy, grasping him around the middle and pulling him back. “What did I say? No joining the circus until you’re at least fifteen!” Jamie let out a happy giggle, landing in the middle of Clint’s stomach as they tussled and knocking the air out of him. He rolled up, straddling Clint’s chest with a sweaty grin.

 

“You were in the circus,” Jamie stated breathlessly.

 

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, his phone beeped in his pocket but he ignored it, tickling Jamie’s ribs instead. The boy batted his hands away and he laughed.

 

“Was it fun?” Jamie asked.

 

“Sometimes,” Clint nodded. “Sometimes it was a lot of fun. Sometimes not so much.”

 

“How come you’re not in the circus any more?” Jamie asked curiously.

 

“This is more fun,” Clint teased, tweaking his nose. Jamie scrunched up his face, poking him in the arm.

 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Clint asked, changing the subject. “You going to be a scientist like Bruce or an engineer like Tony, or maybe a tight rope walker?” Jamie laughed, making a bad attempt at trying to tickle Clint.

 

“My apologies for the delay, my friend,” Thor declared as he exited the elevator, nodding at the young man at the coffee bar who was busy cleaning up at the end of the day. 

 

“It’s all good, Thor,” Clint sighed, he lifted Jamie up off his chest and rolled to the edge of the net, dangling the giggling child over the floor a moment before dropping him into Thor’s waiting arms. He grasped the edge and tumbled out, landing beside them. 

 

“I appreciate this,” Clint admitted, stretching out his back.  

 

“I am always more than happy to help,” the Asgardian stated warmly, gently setting Jamie on the ground. Clint nodded, kneeling on the floor, and turning Jamie to face him.

 

“Look, I know I said we’d play until dinner,” he offered apologetically. “But something came up that I have to take care of, so Thor’s going to play with you a while.”

 

“Everything’s all right?” Jamie asked, his brow furrowing in a worried expression.

 

“Everything’s fine,” Clint assured, stroking the boy’s hair. “When you’re grown up, sometimes you have things that come up unexpectedly and you have to be responsible and deal with them before you can go have fun.” Jamie wrinkled his nose.

 

“Yeah I’m not a fan either,” Clint admitted. “But you always have fun with Thor so it’s cool.”

 

“This is a most impressive structure,” Thor remarked, taking in the new play equipment with an appreciative eye as Clint rolled to his feet.

 

“I think technically it’s called a tree fort,” Clint paused in his explanation, running his fingers through his hair. “I guess this one is made for people who don’t have big trees.”

 

“We have something similar on Asgard,” Thor nodded in understanding. “In remote areas warriors will often build lookout posts among the tree tops to keep a watchful eye and to prevent wild animals from eviscerating them in there sleep.”

 

“Ooooo-kay,” Clint blinked at him. “Yeah… not the same thing.” He rubbed his eyes, thinking a moment.

 

“Do you remember that wheelchair accessible playground the Maria Stark Foundation asked us to open?” he asked finally. A wide grin spread over Thor’s face.

 

“A truly spectacular event,” Thor nodded happily. “Come, young one, acquaint me with the use of your slide!” He put a large hand on Jamie’s back steering the child toward the rope ladder. Clint watched a moment as Thor swung himself up onto the upper level of the play structure, Jamie scrambling after him, then he turned, digging his phone from his pocket again.

 

“Yeah?” he sighed.

 

“Do you remember Cash?” Phil asked without preamble.

 

“The slimy little shit from that sideways op in Pontiac?” Clint asked with a frown.

 

“That’s the one,” Phil confirmed. “He’s in Queens, and he just made a tidy sum of money that made its way out of some Hydra owned subsidiaries.”

 

“Son of a…” Clint’s lips puckered up in a frown and he glanced back over his shoulder to see Jamie coaxing Thor cross the rope bridge, the blond purposefully rattling it to make it look unsafe. “If he’s here, and they’re paying him to be here…”

 

“That’s my thinking,” Phil confirmed. “I can have him picked up.”

 

“No,” Clint shook his head as he leaned against the wall beside the elevator, though Phil wouldn’t be able to see it. “He owes us. He owes me, and I’m going to collect. Give me six hours.”

 

“You can have eight, Barton,” Phil stated, fond amusement in his tone. Clint froze, his chest growing tight as he watched the numbers above the door slide by.

 

“God, I love you,” he whispered. He could just hear Phil’s sharp intake of breath as if he were surprised and Clint smiled. They never said ‘I love you too’ they’d never spoken about why. To Clint somehow it felt trite, an expected response that bled some of the meaning from the words. And maybe Phil felt the same way, Clint didn’t know, but he did know what he’d hear next.

 

“Come back in one piece,” Phil declared, just a touch pleading.

 

“Aww, you know me, sir,” Clint grinned as he boarded the elevator.

 

“That’s why I’m worried, Barton,” Phil answered as the doors closed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Why’s Ellie crying?” 

 

Jane paused at the kitchen doorway at the sound of Jamie’s voice, her coffee cup clutched in her hand. She turned, peering the rest of the way down the hall to the rec room and without thinking she detoured, leaning in at the threshold, her hip braced against the archway.

 

“The doctor is telling her that she can’t have kids,” Darcy explained, matter of fact. She and Jamie were camped out on the large sectional sofa, Natasha’s blanket tucked around them both. Jamie’s stuffed puppy was clutched in his arms and he stared at the TV with a calculating expression.

 

“She looks really sad,” he observed.

 

“Well, kids are pretty awesome,” Darcy pointed out diplomatically. Jamie glanced up at her and she grinned, gently ruffling his hair. 

 

“Are you going to have kids when you grow up?” the boy asked.

 

“I don’t know, maybe,” Darcy shrugged, her smile widening. “I guess I’ll have to grow up first.” Jamie nodded seriously.

 

“Do you know a lot of kids?” he asked curiously.

 

“Not really,” she admitted. “but you’re a kid and you’re pretty awesome.” Jamie blushed, giving Darcy a sidelong look.

 

“I don’t know many kids,” Jamie admitted. “Just you and Clint.” Jane covered her mouth to muffle her laugh as Darcy grinned evilly.

 

“He’s really not a kid, you know?” Darcy pointed out gently. Jamie looked up at her in surprise.

 

“He’s almost a kid though,” Jamie’s tone was questioning and she draped her arm around his shoulder pulling him into her side.

 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she nodded. She paused a moment, thoughtfully. “You should have a little friend like Ellie or Carl. I had a friend in grade school. Her name was Libby.”

 

“Did you go on adventures?” Jamie asked curiously.

 

“We dug quarters out of the couch cushions and snuck down to the Circle K for super size Frosters,” Darcy said. “and then we had to ride our bikes back home without crashing from the sugar rush and hide the cups from our moms.”

 

“Should he be watching this?” Jane asked with a frown, trying to take a drink from her empty coffee mug and catching herself half way.

 

“He’s seen _Cars_ four times,” Darcy looked over her shoulder with a shrug. “We’ve run out of things without peril in them. It was this, or _Lilo and Stitch_.” Jane blanched. 

 

“My thoughts exactly,” Darcy nodded firmly.

 

“Did Ellie die?” Jamie asked, his forehead crinkling in distress. Jane’s face contorted in a panicked expression.

 

“I got this,” Darcy stated calmly, waving a hand at her. “Ellie and Carl have lived a long, long time in that house together. That’s what happens, you grow up and you grow old and one day you die, it’s nothing to be afraid of. The important thing is that you spend as much of the time you have with the people who mean the most to you. And Carl and Ellie got to do that.”

 

“I am traumatized by the fact that you are the most well adjusted person around here,” Jane declared, retreating toward the kitchen.

 

“We live in a superhero frat house!” Darcy called after her. “Do the words ‘origin story’ mean _anything_ to you?”

 

“Pizza’s here,” Bucky announced, strolling into the rec room with four boxes in hand. He spread them out on the coffee table, handing the plates and napkins to Darcy.

 

“Okay, pizza is like ice cream,” Darcy explained, flipping open the lid of the nearest box. “If you aren’t excited about one flavor, there’s a bunch more to try.” She pulled a slice of pepperoni from the box, handing it to Jamie.

 

“It’s also totally acceptable to pick off toppings if you don’t want them.” Bucky added, grabbing a slice for himself and pulling the pepperoni off, stuffing it in his mouth.

 

“Bucky’ll be glad to eat them,” Darcy nodded, grabbing a slice of sausage veggie. “He’ll eat anything.”

 

“Oh my god,” Bucky pulled a face at the TV, getting up and switching chairs so that he was out of line of sight of the screen.

 

“Coward,” Darcy teased in exasperation. “The worst is over.” Bucky only shuddered, making another face that made Jamie giggle into his pizza.

 

“Where is everyone?” Jane asked curiously, emerging from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee.

 

“Betty and the science bros are down in the lab,” Bucky shrugged. “Not sure about everyone else.”

 

“You make them sound like a technopop band,” Darcy rolled her eyes, turning to Jane. “Don’t you have a date?”

 

“Yes,” Jane paused, her brow knitting. “yes, I do actually.”

 

“I swear, I don’t know why he puts up with you,” Darcy scolded, glaring at the back of Jane’s head as she retreated up the stairs. “Go get ready, the poor man’s probably waiting. With flowers!” Darcy sighed, shaking her head before turning back to the movie.

 

“How’s the pizza?” She asked, nudging Jamie’s shoulder. 

 

“It’s good,” he nodded, chewing as he stared at the TV.

 

“Do you really think that, or are you just used to eating whatever they put in front of you?” Darcy asked skeptically. Jamie blinked up at her with a perplexed expression.

 

“The second one,” Bucky stated, sighing. Jamie looked back at the TV, pretending to ignore the conversation. 

 

“Hey,” Darcy gave his shirt a gentle tug. “You’re a person, just like everyone else, and you’re allowed to like things and not like them. It’s okay, no one’s going to be mad.” Jamie glanced at her out of the corner of his eye uneasily. 

 

“I’m… going to go work on some reports,” Bucky declared, grabbing one of the pizza boxes and retreating at Darcy’s meaningful look. She paused the movie, turning to Jamie. 

 

“Okay, here’s the thing,” She said seriously. “you need to learn that it’s okay to express yourself. To like things, and to not be so crazy about other things.”

 

“I like my shoes,” he stated, holding up one brightly colored sneaker with comic versions of the Avengers on them.

 

“Yeah well, your shoes are pretty cool,” Darcy admitted. “I want you to try a bite of all the pizzas and tell me which one you like best.”

 

Natasha leaned her head against the wall, watching from around the banisters of the second floor as Darcy flipped open the pizza boxes, tearing bites off of slices and piling them onto Jamie’s paper plate. The boy looked back and forth between her and the boxes before carefully nibbling at the sausage veggie. He seemed unsure of himself and Natasha allowed herself a small smile as Darcy pulled off one of his onions.

 

“You’re spying on him?” Natasha stiffened slightly, pressing further into the alcove that was sheltering her from view in rec room below. She let out a huff of a sigh, stealing one last glance down at Darcy and Jamie before turning to look up at Bucky who was eating pizza out of the open box not two feet behind her.

 

“How do you sneak up on me like that?” she demanded irritably. Bucky shrugged, settling on the floor beside her and holding out the box. She took a slice, shaking her head.

 

“Went up in the elevator and came down the stairs behind you,” he informed, finishing his slice and starting another. “The carpeting and the angle of the hallway makes it almost impossible to hear approach.” Natasha seemed to consider this a moment before nodding.

 

“She’s good with him,” Natasha observed, watching Jamie as he chewed thoughtfully. “In an innovative sort of way.”

 

“We should see about a more active field roll?” Bucky suggested. Natasha nodded musing as she ate.

 

“So you’re not going to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked uneasily.

 

“I hadn’t planned on it,” she admitted, a crooked smile curling her lips as Jamie abandoned the veggie pizza and tried the cheese again. She startled in surprise as Bucky’s fingers tangled with hers.

 

“Please?” he asked softly. She gave him a look, her brow furrowing in an expression that was both vulnerable and annoyed. 

 

“I know you hate when I do that,” he offered quickly, looking contrite as he tossed the crust into the box, wiping his hand on his jeans. “The only thing I can take out of all those years that I’m not ashamed of is you.”

 

“Do you ever,” Natasha drew in a slow breath, her shoulders shifting as if she were lowering her guard a fraction, staring at her last bite of pizza crust. “resent the fact that I can’t give you children?” Bucky looked down at their joined hands, choosing his words carefully.

 

“You could resent me for the same reason,” he reminded. Natasha eyed him sadly and she turned her attention back to the sectional sofa below them. The movie had resumed and Darcy was picking all the veggies off of Jamie’s pizza, leaving only the sausage. 

 

“There have been times when I wondered if I was still human,” she admitted softly, leaning into Bucky’s side. “They’ve taken so much from us that made us human, what if we’re not any more?”

 

“I don’t give a damn,” Bucky shook his head, releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “I really don’t. If I’ve lost my humanity in all of this then I’ve gained you and it was worth it.”

 

“I know you, James,” she sighed, the faintest tremor in her voice. “I know what you dreamed, what you wanted, a wife and children and a life of honest work.”

 

“That world’s gone now,” he admitted, sadly, resting his chin on the top of her head as she curled into him “I’ve seen too much, Tasha, to ever be that man again.”

 

“I see it when you’re with him,” Natasha whispered. “You still want a family.”

 

“More than anything but you,” he nodded.

 

“I thought I was fine,” she confessed, her expression hard. “I thought I’d moved past it, that I’d convinced myself that it was for the best.” a choked sound slipped out and she pressed her hand to her lips as Bucky held her tighter.

 

“We can adopt,” He suggested hoarsely, clearing his throat. “I’ll buy a ring and you can buy a dress and Steve’ll be our witness and Tony, the bastard, will sweet talk his way through the red tape for us and we’ll adopt.”

 

“Is that what you want?” Natasha asked, a single tear trickling down her cheek. 

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, his own eye drifting to the small boy on the sofa below them. “There’s still so much I’m trying to put back together and I don’t know if it’s still what I want but damn it, we should have the right to choose. We both should. We should have made that decision for ourselves instead of someone else making it for us.” 

 

“I spy on him because I see myself in him,” Natasha admitted, answering his earlier question. “And I’d never seen myself as small and weak before, but I was. That was me once, and I know what he’s facing, I know what it feels like to be unmade, the pain of rebuilding yourself, and he’s just a child. When I’m close to him I would do anything to take that pain away, to put him back together so he doesn’t have to hurt. But if I take those choices from him, I’m no better than those who took mine from me. So I watch from a distance, and I hope that when he does need me I’m close enough to catch him.”

 

“You were always close enough to catch me,” Bucky insisted softly. Natasha turned, pressing into him as he pulled her closer, their arms tangled around each other.

 

“He’s helping you as much as you’re helping him,” Natasha’s words weren’t a question but Bucky nodded in confirmation.

 

“More,” he whispered, hiding his face in her neck. “So much more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The panic attack Phil mentions in the beginning of this chapter was originally slated to appear in the previous chapter but, having seen a small child have a trauma induced panic attack I decided I agreed with Phil and I really wouldn't wish that on anyone. So no, you didn't miss it in the narrative. The particulars were deleted in a lapse of compassion.
> 
> I have made the perhaps debatable and potentially unpopular literary choice to imply that both the Red Room and Hydra would have deemed offspring on the part of their operatives an undesirable security risk and a potential point of compromise and eliminated the possibility in both their male and female experimental agents. The Red Room would certainly have no use for a pregnant female operative and The Nazi party has a storied history of sterilizing those they deem unworthy of procreation. It is by no means canon, but for the purposes of this story I felt it necessary.
> 
> I am also implying that Natasha and Bucky were more closely connected during his years as the Winter Soldier that what is stated in the MCU. There's a point to this, just not here. Answers later. Much, much later.


	14. For you never shut your eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised that there are brief discussions of the torture of children and animals in this chapter. 
> 
> (If you wish to read the story but skip over those parts, Stop reading when Bruce enters and pick up after the line break.)

It was a cliche from start to finish. The narrow alley, dirty and drenched in shadow, the dingy playbills, and missing posters, and flyers, edges torn and text muted by rain until they were unreadable. The stale smell of gasoline and mold. The scuttle of rodents far too large to be squirrels. The rusty metal door sunk in the wall with a sliding peephole. 

 

Clint figured at any moment James Cagney would come around the corner.

 

Considering the man had been dead for nearly thirty years, Clint’s current plan was to shoot him on sight for being a zombie. It was, he thought, a good plan.

 

The figure in the shabby navy blue windbreaker shuffled as he walked, ducking into the alley, his head down, his eyes on his cheap shoes.

 

“You dirty rat,” Clint mumbled under his breath, pulling back his bow. He lined up the shot, slow and careful.

 

The figure jumped when the arrow stuck in the cracked pavement at his feet.

 

“The Amazing Hawkeye Barton,” the man drawled, his eye tracing over the darkened alley. Clint stepped from the shadows, his bow drawn, the arrow trained on the other man’s head as he slowly raised his hands. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“How ya doing, Cash?” Clint asked, his tone dripping with disdain. “You snively, slimy, sleazy, little…”

 

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Cash interrupted, with a glare. “did you want something?”

 

“That’s not how this is going to go,” Clint warned, drawing back his bow string a fraction more. “The only reason you’re alive is because I had a bad day, I didn’t get any coffee, and you didn’t make me kill you. I let you go because I thought there was a vague chance you might turn out to be useful. So you’d better prove me right in the next two minutes or I might just decide to finish my job in Pontiac.” Cash rolled his eyes.

 

“I help you and then what?” he glowered.

 

“You can go back to being a boil on the butt of humanity,” Clint replied.

 

“‘Cause you’re such a nice guy,” Cash scoffed.

 

“They’re calling me Kinder Gentler Barton these days,” Clint declared with a light shrug. “I might get it on a T-shirt.”

 

“Look, Hawkeye, I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Cash offered placatingly. “But I got out of that business!”

 

“I’m sure you did,” Clint nodded smugly. “In fact, I’m counting on it.” Cash flinched and the faintest evil smile started to tug at Clint’s lips.

 

“Come on, Cash, cough it up,” Clint demanded. “Hydra’s paying you a lot of money for something and it isn’t hot DVD players.” Cash jerked as if he’d been slapped, a worried expression appearing on his face.

 

“I didn’t know they was Hydra,” he defended quickly.

 

“Didn’t ask, did you?” Clint countered with his most disgusted look, taking Cash’s silence for admission. “Don’t pretend like you care, it’s not going to make a difference.”

 

“I care about my ass,” Cash replied defensively. “Hydra’s dangerous to everybody. The second you stop being useful to them you’re dead.”

 

“I’m about two seconds from seeing how many arrows I can get in that ass you’re so fond of, Cash.” Clint warned drily.

 

“Okay, okay, you bastard,” Cash spat out, raising his hands a little higher. “Computers, custom built computers. A whole damn mess of them. They weren’t stolen!” he added as an afterthought.

 

“Custom,” Clint huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes. “custom _super computers._ Tell me you did not sell contraband cryptographic technology to fucking Hydra!” Cash waffled uneasily a moment but his expression was answer enough.

 

“Aw Cash, no,” Clint sighed.

 

“They didn’t seem like bad guys!” Cash insisted defensively.

 

“Did they tell you who’s door they were knocking on?” Clint demanded.

 

“No!” Cash answered quickly. He stared at Clint a moment, his expression growing properly frightened. “No! No, no, no, no way! Because if they’d have told me it was your door I would have told them where to pack it, because the only people on this planet scarier than Hydra is you and Tony Stark and I don’t want that action!” Clint lowered his bow, shaking his head in disgust.

 

“Put your damn hands down, Cash, you look like a pompom squad reject,” he ordered. Cash lowered his hands slowly but he seemed uncertain what to do with them, holding them out at his sides.

 

“Look, Agent,” there was a meekness in his bearing and Clint’s face crinkled up in anger.

 

“Do not say you’re sorry or I will shoot you,” Clint warned. “How many computers.”

 

“Fifteen,” Cash replied quickly,” Clint shot him a glare and he sputtered. “Two, two shipments of fifteen.”

 

“Fine, where?”

 

“Rundown little industrial place east of Jamaica Hospital, gray brick, metal doors.” Cash answered, his lips turning up in a cocky smile “On Archer.”

 

“Cute, very cute.”

 

“Hey man, I swear that’s all I know.” Cash replied, looking slightly more contrite. “We good?”

 

“Cash, we are never going to be good,” Clint remarked. “Turn around and walk away.”

 

“You gonna shoot me?” Cash asked worriedly. 

 

“If I was going to shoot you, it’d be so I could see the look on your face,” Clint replied with a glower. “Walk.” Cash’s shoulders rolled up to his ears, his hands still half out at his sides as he shuffled down the alley the way he’d come, disappearing in the darkness.

 

“I got a bead,” Clint stated, his guard still up as he stepped forward, pulling his arrow from the crumbling pavement.

 

“Yeah I heard,” Phil answered through the com in his ear. “I’m getting location now, nice work. You’re clear.”

 

“I hate that guy,” Clint stated, folding down his bow and stuffing it in the backpack slung over his shoulder. He tugged his hoodie up over his hair, hunching his shoulders as he walked out of the opposite end of the alley.

 

“Pretty sure the feeling’s mutual,” Phil replied, a smile in his tone. 

 

“So, buy you a drink, sailor?” Clint asked in a flirty tone.

 

“I’m working,” Phil reminded. “And I’m not that easy.”

 

“Okay, I’ll buy you a coffee when you get off work, handsome,” Clint said with a grin. 

 

“I guess I better lean on my partner to hurry up then,” Phil answered. Clint bit back a laugh, melting into the darkness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Morning Betty,” Steve mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn, still wearing the track pants and t-shirt he’d obviously slept in. Betty looked up from her tablet with a smile, catching sight of Jamie who was trailing two steps in Steve’s wake in a matching pair of gray track pants and a Black Widow logo t-shirt emblazoned with “Fight Like a Girl.”

 

“Did you two have a rough night?” she asked sympathetically, glancing at the clock on the stove as she reached for her coffee mug. “It’s not even seven yet.” Jamie’s cheeks colored and he peered out from behind Steve shyly. 

 

“We were both awake and hungry,” Steve shrugged, opening the fridge and filling two glasses with orange juice, handing one to Jamie before taking a long gulp of his own. “I was going to make eggs, how about it?”

 

“Yes please,” she sighed. “I need to finish up this draft for my presentation and then get down to the lab to take readings at seven thirty. I’m going to need all the fuel I can get today.”

 

“When are you guys leaving?” Steve asked curiously, clanging through one of the drawers for the frying pan.

 

“Thursday afternoon, I guess,” Betty replied with a shrug. “Jane’s presenting Friday evening so we wanted to be there early.”

 

“Bruce and Tony aren’t going with you?” Steve asked curiously, reaching for the butter dish. Betty shook her head. He turned back toward the fridge and came up short, skidding to a stop on the flagstone tile.

 

“Can I help?” Jamie asked, his head tilted so far back to gaze up at Steve that it looked almost painful. 

 

“Um,” Steve blinked down at him as if uncomfortable with his proximity.

 

“Why don’t you make the toast,” Betty suggested, a look of amusement on her face. Jamie looked from her back up to Steve with a questioning expression as if asking permission.

 

“Um, yeah,” Steve looked properly uncomfortable now and Betty bit her lip to keep from laughing as Jamie’s face lit up. “Bread’s in the pantry, second shelf on the right.” Jamie was off like a shot through the pantry door, emerging a moment later with a bread bag in one hand and a jam jar in the other. He plopped them both on the counter in front of the toaster as Steve warily fished eggs from the refrigerator, keeping one eye on the boy who was carefully pulling a chair across the floor from the table.

 

“My goodness you’re up early,” Pepper remarked, coming into the kitchen in her perfectly pressed suit, she glanced over at Jamie who stood on the chair, feeding bread slices into the oversized toaster.

 

“I’m presenting at a conference this week,” Betty teased lightly, flashing her a warm smile. “What’s your excuse?”

 

“Meeting at the Pentagon,” Pepper sighed, an appraising eye taking in the blonds making breakfast as she started her coffee “Steve when was the last time you slept?”

 

“Oh, I slept last night,” Steve insisted, cracking eggs into the frying pan. “How do you want yours, Pepper?”

 

“Over easy’s fine,” she waved a hand dismissively, taking the seat at the breakfast Bar next to Betty. “Thank you, now stop being evasive. You look exhausted.” Steve gave her a wary look, his eye straying to Jamie as the toaster popped up and the boy carefully moved the toast into the warmer and refilled the toaster.

 

“Little bit of a rough night,” Steve allowed cautiously. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Pepper hummed softly, the quirk of her lips expressing just how little she thought of that assertion.

 

“Good morning everyone,” Phil declared, adjusting his tie as he made his way toward the k cup machine. Jamie grinned up at him, holding out a slice of toast. Phil gave him a warm smile, taking the toast with one hand and running his fingers through Jamie’s hair with the other. “Thank you.” Pepper’s eyes narrowed as Steve looked on with an expression that was supremely relieved as Phil brushed a light kiss on Jamie’s forehead and the boy leaned into his chest with a soft sigh.

 

“Any requests?” Steve asked, smiling at Phil.

 

“I’ll have whatever you’re making everyone else,” Phil insisted, buttering his toast. “it’s nice of you to go to the trouble as it is.”

 

“It’s no trouble,” Steve replied, plating eggs and handing the plates off to Phil who set them in front of the ladies. “Jamie, time to eat.” Jamie turned, holding out two pieces of toast and Steve stared back at him, his expression unreadable as he clutched the frying pan in one hand. There was a moment’s confusion on Jamie’s face that seemed to shake Steve from his stupor and he carefully scooped an egg onto one slice of toast. Jamie flipped the other over, taking a bite of his sandwich and setting it down on the counter before returning his attention to the toaster.

 

“Steve, is something wrong?” Phil asked with a worried frown.

 

“No,” Steve answered quickly, returning the pan to the stove and cracking more eggs. “It’s… Bucky used to make us egg sandwiches like that when we were kids.”

 

“That’s probably where he learned it,” Betty pointed out, taking toast from the warmer and handing it to Pepper.

 

“I guess,” Steve shrugged as the eggs sizzled in the pan. He glanced at Jamie who moved the last of the toast into the warmer before clambering up to sit onto the counter, his feet dangling over the chair as he finished his breakfast.

 

“Any plans for today?” Phil asked as Steve handed him a plate of eggs and then piled the rest on his own plate.

 

“I don’t think so,” Steve shrugged, reaching around Jamie for the toast.

 

“Can we go to the gym?” Jamie asked, staring at Steve as he took a bite of his egg sandwich. Steve blinked back at him with startled eyes a moment.

 

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Clint?” he asked cautiously.

 

“He had a bit of a late night,” Phil remarked, cutting into this eggs. “We should talk about that, actually.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded readily, piling the remainder of the toast on his plate. “Jamie, you can come down to Phil’s office while we talk and wait for him there.” Pepper frowned, glancing at Betty who met her eye with pursed lips. Jamie didn’t answer but he was wearing that all too familiar blank expression he seemed to get when he had no idea what to do.

 

“You know what?” Betty announced, decisively. “I need to head down to the lab, Jamie, do you want to come with me and see if Tony’s playing with his blow torch again?” Jamie grinned, his eyes sparkling impishly and Pepper muffled her laugh in her hand. The impulsive response faded a moment later and the confused knit of his brows returned.

 

“You’re allowed to say what you want,” Phil prompted gently. “It’s all right.” Jamie looked over at him for a long moment before glancing at Betty and then turning to Steve.

 

“I… I wana go with you,” he stated softly.

 

“Okay,” Steve nodded readily, giving Jamie’s shoulder a squeeze and grabbing his juice before sliding up to the table across from Phil. “Clint never sleeps in that late, clean up when you’re done. Thanks for offering Betty.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” she answered with a calculating look at the touch of frustration that flitted across Jamie’s face and just as quickly vanished. He chewed down the last bite of his sandwich, brushing the crumbs from his shirt and leaning over the sink  to rinse off his hands before hopping off of the counter, dripping across the floor as he headed for the towel by the stove to dry off.

 

“Have you heard any more about the,” Phil paused a moment, glancing at Jamie who was now hanging off the back of Steve’s chair, his feet braced on the rung. “test results Bruce sent out?” Steve shook his head.

 

“The scientist they’re consulting with wanted to run some kind of comparative analysis,” Steve remarked. “I’m not sure I really understand it.”

 

“Well these things can take time,” Phil observed, a smile quirking his lips as Jamie half draped himself over Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Jamie, don’t do that,” Steve insisted gently, grasping hold of his arm and tugging him around to the table. “You’ll fall and hurt yourself.” Jamie leaned into Steve’s side, shuffling closer to him and Pepper turned to Betty with an amused expression.

 

“Bruce thinks we’ll hear something this week,” Steve offered between bites of breakfast, too distracted to notice that Jamie had clambered into his lap and was curling into his chest. 

 

“Whatever we hear it’ll be nice to have a result.” Phil nodded, still picking at his breakfast but his attention had fixed on Jamie who yawned.

 

“Honestly,” Steve admitted hesitantly, waving to Betty and Pepper as they dumped their dishes in the sink and slipped out of the kitchen. “I’m a little nervous about what they could find.”

 

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” Phil promised.

 

“I know,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “It’s just.” his voice trailed off and his shoulders slumped as if he were at a loss for words.

 

“Steve, do you want to talk about it?” Phil offered gently.

 

“What?” Steve asked, mopping up the last of his eggs. “Clint’s intel?”

 

“No I didn’t,” Phil began.

 

“Jamie, come on, time for me to work,” Steve gave the shoulder beneath Jamie’s cheek a gentle shrug, and the boy’s head lulled, a soft snore escaping his lips. Steve froze, gazing down at the delicate brush of long lashes over pale cheeks and barely parted pale pink lips.

 

“Poor little guy,” Phil observed, pushing aside his empty plate and draining his coffee. Steve nodded in agreement, his fingers slowly raking through Jamie’s hair as he tucked the blond head against his chest. “We can do the debrief later.”

 

“Give me a few minutes,” Steve asked, swallowing. “just to make sure he’s out, then I’ll be down.” Phil nodded, gathering up the plates and filling the dishwasher before disappearing down the hall. Steve’s arms twined around Jamie a little more securely and his shoulders slumped as he let his chin rest on Jamie’s head.

 

“Get some sleep, baby,” he murmured sadly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What’s that?” Jamie asked, his brow furrowing as he sat on the rec room floor mashing bright blue clay between his fingers.

 

“A Tendriculos,” Thor replied, carefully posing one acid green tentacle in the air before looking up at Jamie who was staring back at him blankly across the coffee table. 

 

“You do not have Tendriculos on this world?” Thor asked curiously. Jamie seemed to think about this a moment.

 

“Steve?” he asked the motionless heap asleep on the couch beside him. Steve let out a muffled sound in reply but didn’t move. “Steve, do we have Ten-dric-o-lows?”

 

“Pantry,” Steve mumbled. “Second shelf.”

 

“I would take that as a no,” Thor reasoned. Jamie made to poke Steve’s arm with one finger but Thor waved him off. “Leave him, lad, he has much care on his shoulders and little respite. Allow him a moments rest.”

 

“What are you two up to?” Bruce asked in curious amusement as he settled on the arm of the sofa, a cup of tea in hand.

 

“Play-doh animals,” Jamie answered, his attention straying to Steve as he slowly rolled his clay into a log shape.

 

“Nice turtle,” Bruce remarked nodding at the figure on the corner of the coffee table. 

 

“Is that what it is?” Thor asked lowering his eye so that it was even with the edge of the table. “It has no fangs.”

 

“Jamie, the most important thing to know about Thor is that you don’t take his advice about animals,” Bruce advised seriously.

 

“His horse has eight legs,” the boy whispered loudly behind his hand, though Thor pretended not to hear.

 

“We don’t talk about that,” Bruce whispered back, holding in his grin of amusement. His attention returned to the menagerie lining the coffee table. There was a red dragon that was clearly Thor’s creation, a dog with an unusually large collar and floppy ears that was quite good for a six year old, something that looked suspiciously like a Chitauri Leviathan, a penguin and

 

“Jamie, your monkey,” Bruce began hesitantly.

 

“It’s a chim-pan-zee,” he corrected, slowly articulating each syllable.

 

“So it is,” Bruce nodded in agreement. “What’s it wearing?”

 

“A control harness,” Jamie shrugged. His glob of blue clay was starting to look a little bit like an elephant as he carefully pressed the log he’d been rolling onto it’s face. Thor looked up from whatever Asgardian nightmare he was currently constructing, his wary expression matching Bruce’s.

 

“Why does it need a control harness?” Bruce asked, keeping his voice carefully even.

 

“So that if it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do the researchers can stop it,” Jamie replied, his brow knitting as he used his plastic knife to cut out an elephant ear.

 

“How does that work?” Bruce stayed what would have been unnaturally still for anyone else as Thor pretended to turn his attention to his own clay figure, his fingers moving in deliberate fashion.

 

“There’s a charger on the back,” Jamie explained. “And a transmitter and when the transmitter goes off it either makes a sound if it’s right or a shock if it’s wrong.”

 

“A shock, like an electric shock?” Bruce asked.

 

“No,” Jamie shook his head, his expression slightly frustrated as he struggled to attach the elephant’s ear. He let out a puff of a breath, glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye before licking the joint of the ear with his tongue and pressing the damp clay quickly into place. Thor muffled his laugh against his arm as Bruce closed his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.

 

“Jamie, what kind of shock?” he prompted presently. 

 

“I…” He seemed to struggle a moment, looking for words. “the kind that starts in your fingers and goes over your chest and up the back of your head to your eyes.” He looked up a Bruce with a completely innocent expression.

 

“Doctor,” Thor interrupted, his deep voice soft and soothing as Bruce slowly closed his eyes.

 

“It’s all right,” Bruce insisted, drawing in a slow breath through his nose and letting it out. “I’m all right.”

 

“Steven?” Thor began but Bruce gave his head one slow shake, drawing in another breath.

 

“I’m fine,” he insisted, his rigid posture easing. He drew in one more breath, opening his eyes. “Jamie, do you understand that it’s wrong to hurt an animal like that?” His voice was gentle, coaxing and the boy looked up at him with a perplexed expression but didn’t answer.

 

“Do you understand that it’s wrong for someone to hurt _you_ like that?” he asked more deliberately. Jamie stared back at him for a long moment before reaching out and grasping hold of the chimpanzee, crushing it in his palm.

 

“Jamie, wait, wait,” Bruce pleaded quickly but it was already too late. He winced as Jamie stuffed the glob of clay in an empty plastic can, mashing the lid in place and sweeping up the elephant.

 

“Steve, I made animals,” Jamie stated, holding the now finished figurine out and carefully bumping its trunk against Steve’s nose. 

 

“Jamie,” Bruce cringed, but the boy ignored him, smiling brightly as Steve’s eyes fluttered.

 

“Nice elephant,” Steve nodded sleepily. Jamie beamed at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off Thor. Hi Bruce.”

 

“Hi,” Bruce replied, looking deflated. 

 

“It was no trouble,” Thor insisted, his smile warm and genuine. “I am curious as to why the turtle has no fangs.”

 

“They don’t here,” Steve replied, holding in a laugh as he swung his feet to the floor. “What time is it? Are you hungry?” Jamie nodded and Steve let out a yawn, stretching out his back.

 

“Why don’t you help Thor clean up and I’ll start lunch?” Steve suggested.

 

“Can I keep my elephant?” Jamie asked, looking at it fondly.

 

“He’s a really good elephant,” Bruce offered. “All your animals are really good. If you want to keep them, it’s fine. We can always get more play-doh.”

 

“We should find somewhere for them to dry,” Thor agreed, inspecting the room thoughtfully as he rolled to his feet.

 

“You guys want anything?” Steve asked, pushing himself off the sofa with a soft groan, watching as Jamie handed Thor animals to line up on the top of the credenza. 

 

“I should really go,” Bruce began hesitantly.

 

“Steve says lunch is important,” Jamie pointed out, giving him a serious look.

 

“Yeah it is,” Bruce agreed, smiling in spite of himself. 

 

“Sandwiches okay?” Steve questioned, heading toward the kitchen.

 

“Baloney?” Jamie asked hopefully, stuffing leftover play-doh into cans. Steve glanced up at the ceiling on reflex.

 

“I had a wide range of lunch meat delivered this morning,” JARVIS answered the unspoken question in amusement. Steve nodded, disappearing into the kitchen.

 

“Jamie, go ahead and wash up,” Bruce suggested, depositing some of the tools in the bin with the leftover clay. “Thor and I will finish.” Jamie nodded, trotting out into the hall toward the powder room.

 

“Should we tell Steven?” Thor asked softly, shoving his tendriculos into one of the empty cans . Bruce looked over his shoulder toward the hall with sad eyes.

 

“You know what?” He admitted. “I really don’t know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jamie drew in a shaky breath, his eyes widening just a fraction as he stared. On reflex he shuffled back a pace, his shoulders colliding with the body directly behind him. A strong hand settled on his shoulder and his posture stiffened.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve’s voice was low as he knelt on the floor, his lips mere inches from Jamie’s ear as the boy continued to stare. “I know it’s a little scary, but you’re safe, you’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise.” Jamie didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

 

“They’re just kids, Jamie,” he insisted. “Just regular, ordinary, kids. They’re not dangerous.”

 

“Cap’n Rogers!” A delighted female voice squealed. Steve looked up at the head of brown pony tails peering out of one of the windows at the top of the tree fort on floor forty-two.

 

“Hi Paula,” Steve called back, a faint smile curling his lips. Jamie retreated farther against him as Paula swung down on the acrobat rings, half tripping through her landing and scurrying toward them with a skip in every third step.

 

“Papa said I should ask you or Agent Clint to thank Mr. Stark for us,” she declared, fairly brimming over with excitement. “The new playground is totally awesome.”

 

“I’ll be sure to tell him it has the Paula seal of approval,” Steve nodded. 

 

“Are you going to be able to come down and teach us drawing again?” She asked. “Papa says I shouldn’t ask because you’re busy being a superhero and that’s important. But drawing’s important too.”

 

“Drawing is very important,” Steve agreed. “I will do my best to come back as soon as I can.”

 

“Ms. Lindsay needs a break from us,” Paula admitted, flashing a smile at the young woman in her twenties who was monitoring the half-dozen shouting grade schoolers from one of the chairs in the cafe. She smiled back, her gaze drifting to Steve with a look that could only be described as relieved.

 

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Steve admitted, giving Jamie’s arm a squeeze and gently shuffling him forward. “This is Jamie, Jamie, this is Paula, her dad works in R&D.

 

“Hi!” Paula grinned, grasping his small hand in hers and giving it a firm shake.

 

“He’s new around here,” Steve explained. “I thought he could play with you guys for a bit.”

 

“Sure!!” Paula’s face broke in a delighted grin.

 

“He’s a little shy,” Steve added.

 

“It’s okay,” Paula insisted, turning to Jamie with a conspiratorial look. “My brother Jorge is shy. That’s him hiding by the fireman pole.” Jamie looked past her cautiously, taking in a pair of bright brown eyes that were just barely visible between the rails.

 

“Go on,” Steve coaxed. “Go meet some other kids. It’ll be great.” Jamie edged forward, now drawing the attention of the other children who were hanging back, staring at Steve with open admiration.

 

“Um, Paula?” Steve stopped her as she made to follow. “Uh, you remember we talked about that new girl at school from Somalia?”

 

“Matida,” Paula nodded, a warm smile on her face. “You were right, she’s a lot different now.”

 

“Jamie’s kind of like that,” Steve cringed a little. Paula’s lips drew up in a silent oh and she turned to look at Jamie who was shuffling nervously just a few feet away from Jorge who was watching him shyly from the second level.

 

“It’s ok Cap,” Paula nodded seriously. “I remember what to do.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve smiled fondly and she gave him a sloppy left-handed salute before scuttling after Jamie. 

 

“Jorge can do a trick with the see-saw!” she said excitedly. “You wanna see?” Steve rolled to his feet, biting his lip nervously as Paula herded both boys toward the see-saws, Jamie looked back at him with pleading eyes but Steve only motioned him on. folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Breaking him in to the wide wonderful world of playground bullying?” he started, turning in surprise to find Tony standing beside him.

 

“I figured most of the kids in the after-school program were safe,” Steve admitted. “I mean, I know them from the art classes I teach once in a while.”

 

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Tony gave him a perplexed look as if he were trying to decide if Steve were crazy.

 

“It’s nice to do something that doesn’t involve pyrotechnics,” Steve shrugged. “It’s great for stress. Maybe you should try it, buy them a ton of legos and then teach them how to build giant robots or something.”

 

“The word you’re looking for is Mecha,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes. “not sure that’s such a good idea, I don’t exactly have the best parental genes.”

 

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “You do okay with Jamie, and you’re a fast learner. I think you’d be fine.”

 

“Did you just _imply_ that I’d be a good father?” Tony demanded incredulously.

 

“I might have,” Steve conceded, hiding his smirk. 

 

“It’s a sign of the damn apocalypse,” Tony shook his head in disgust as Steve laughed. “The world really is ending.”

 

“You’re an asshole, Tony,” Steve chuckled. 

 

“I really am,” Tony nodded in smug agreement. “Barton and Romanov are down in the garage deciding which one of my cars to steal while they wait for you. Go on, I got this.” Steve blinked, processing this information.

 

“You?” he asked finally.

 

“Something wrong with me all of a sudden?” Tony asked drily. “Because a moment ago,”

 

“No I just,” Steve smiled at him with his own special brand of fondness. “I thought you’d raise more of a fuss about…” his voice trailed off and Tony gave him a condescending look before turning back to the Tree Fort where Jamie and several of the kids were playing Hide-and-Seek.

 

“Hey if you want to go out with the Stabbington Twins and raise a little hell, who am I to judge,” He shrugged. “I’ve raised more than my share. It’s cool, I’ve got the kid, go on.”

 

“You’re not dumb, you know what’s going on,” Steve admitted grimly.

 

“I know you, Tasha and Clint are going to a hell of a lot of trouble to keep this under wraps,” Tony admitted. “I can really only think of one reason for that. So I think I’m going to take Clint’s advice and pretend I don’t actually pay attention to what you guys do with your time.”

 

“Thanks Tony,” Steve declared sincerely. 

 

“Get going,” Tony jerked his head toward the elevators. “Do not let Barton hotwire the Bugatti, I will end him if he so much as breathes on it.” Steve stifled a laugh, taking off for the elevators as Tony turned his attention back to Jamie and the other children. There was a giggle from one of the turrets as Paula found Jamie, and the boy slid down the tube slide, tumbling out in a heap.

 

“Where’d Steve go?” Jamie asked, his brow knitting in worry.

 

“He had some work stuff to do,” Tony replied, crouching so that he was closer to eye level. “I told him I’d stay with you till he got back, okay?”  Jamie seemed to waffle between distress and frustration with a rapidity that was almost dizzying and Tony blinked back at him.

 

“Hey,” Tony’s own brow furrowed in seriousness. “It’s cool, Steve’s fine, you’re fine, I’m here. Okay, maybe that’s not reassuring. I mean, I’m kind of irresponsible and I set fire to things so I can see why that would worry you. I can get Bruce down here? Well maybe not down here, that might not be good. Throw me a bone here, kid, blink, do something.” Jamie only stared back at him with a trembling lip and Tony sighed, reaching out to tangle an arm around the boy.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Tony insisted. “Steve promised you that you’d be safe. He doesn’t break his word. Even when he’s not here, he’s still looking out for you.” Jamie nodded into his shoulder with a heartsick sigh.

 

“Is he okay?” Paula asked, rocking back and forth on her cross-trainers. Tony looked up at her with an amused smile.

 

“He just got over being sick,” Tony offered the half truth up with his best press smile. “I think he gets overwhelmed fast.”

 

“Do you want to have a shoot out with the sponge-ball cannons?” Paula asked coaxingly, looking up across the room to where Lindsay was signing out several of the kids out to their parents. “It’s just me and Jorge left. They’re really cool and you don’t have to run around.”

 

“Clint and I played with them,” Jamie informed.

 

“Oh you know Agent Clint too!” Paula beamed. “He’s _awesome_! He comes down almost every week to give us archery lessons.”

 

“Are there any Avengers you don’t know, kid?” Tony asked, perplexed.

 

“I don’t know Sergeant Barnes,” she admitted. “but I see him sometimes on the nights he watches the parking garage when Papa works late.” Toy stared at her blankly a moment before rolling his eyes. 

 

“Go on,” Tony sighed, giving Jamie a gentle shove. “Go play.” Jamie sighed in resignation, heading for the ladder.

 

“Thanks for the awesome playground,” Paula stated, gazing up at him.

 

“You’re welcome,” Tony answered drily.

 

“And the new tablet computers,” Paula added. Tony made to answer but she interrupted. “And the Wii’s. We didn’t have _anything_ like this when Papa worked at Hammer Industries.” Tony made a face involuntarily.

 

“Yeah, I know!” Paula declared, sticking her tongue out in agreement.

 

“Keep an eye on my buddy, would you?” Tony chuckled. Paula nodded and as Tony rolled out of his crouch she gave him an impulsive hug.

 

“Don’t tell Cap’n Rogers, but Iron Man’s my favorite,” she whispered into his shirt before bounding off. Tony shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he winced.

 

“Kids,” he scoffed with a sigh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamie's reaction to his conversation with Bruce can be hard to interpret, no less for me as I'm not one hundred percent sure of his actions myself. It's possible he's reacting to a perceived disappointment and he's attempting to eliminate the "failure" of the "incorrectly" constructed chimpanzee. It could be that he wants to assimilate and everything that signals that he is not a normal child makes him distressed, even when he realizes it after the fact. It's entirely possible that he's angry at what he's experienced and he is looking for some way to vent that anger. I'm not sure I'll ever be certain. What I am certain about is that whatever anger he feels is not directed at Bruce and the tenuous bridge they've built between them is still in tact, which we'll see in later chapters. Bruce, I'm afraid, is taking it pretty hard though, seeing as the last thing he wants to do is make Jamie wary of him again.


	15. And often through my curtains peep

“Welcome home, ma’am,” JARVIS intoned as Pepper’s sapphire Prada pumps clicked against the marble tile of the elevator. “I trust your trip to Washington was uneventful?”

 

“As much as can be expected, JARVIS,” She answered with a sigh as she bent her knee, tugging first one shoe free and then the other. She hefted her bag on her shoulder, curling her toes with a soft groan. “Where’s Tony?”

 

“Sir is currently in the living room,” the AI replied. “Shall I take you there?”

 

“Living room?” she frowned, leaning back against the wall. It wasn’t often these days that she found Tony outside the lab unless it was in the company of the Avengers, and they were usually in the kitchen or the rec room this late at night. She shook off the thought, rubbing her tired eyes. “Yes please.” she answered. The doors opened what seemed like only moments later and she stepped out, padding across the carpet.

 

“Oh now that’s priceless,” Pepper declared, dropping her shoes and fishing her phone from her bag, a nearly evil smirk on her lips as she smoothly clicked the camera button. “It’s a shame I can’t post that to Facebook. Tony Stark you are downright domestic.”

 

“I made grilled cheese,” Tony confessed, shifting Jamie in his arms. The billionaire was sprawled out on the leather sofa, his stocking feet propped up on one arm and the boy curled up against his chest, his face flushed and his hair rumpled as he slept. Tony looked none too tidy himself, his dark hair on end and his t-shirt half rucked up on one side.

 

“And the tower’s still standing,” Pepper observed in amusement. “Will wonders never cease.” Tony rolled his eyes and she leaned over the back of the sofa, kissing him softly as she ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place.

 

“What’s going on here?” she asked, pulling away slightly and glancing at Jamie as he grasped a fistful of Tony’s shirt, mumbling under his breath.

 

“The poor kid can’t sleep,” Tony admitted with a frown. “He wakes up every hour screaming. It’s a damn nightmare.”

 

“Where’s Steve?” Pepper questioned, her expression turning concerned.

 

“Took Clint and Natasha and went somewhere that Clint said I’d be happier not knowing about,” Tony shrugged. “So I offered to watch the rug rat.”

 

“What did Natasha say?” Pepper asked her worry deepening.

 

“Shut up and make sure he brushes his teeth,” Tony admitted. Pepper bit her lip to keep from laughing. She kissed his brow before straightening and he sat up slowly as she rounded the sofa, carefully rearranging Jamie beside him and covering him with a blanket.

 

“Bruce asked me to call Sam,” Tony remarked with an exhausted sigh as Pepper curled up on his other side, leaning into his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. “he said he could be here tomorrow night.” Jamie whimpered in his sleep and Tony ran a hand over his head, making shushing sounds.

 

“For Jamie or for Steve?” Pepper asked seriously.

 

“I would love to give you an answer,” Tony admitted. “But I’ve got nothing. Whatever Bruce knows he’s not saying.”

 

“I guess we know why Steve’s looked so worn,” Pepper pointed out, her attention straying back to Jamie. “Why didn’t he say something?”

 

“Damned if I know,” Tony replied in frustration, tucking the boy in again. “Barnes is going to take the morning shift, said he’d bully Steve into accepting some help.”

 

“I guess that’s something,” she sighed, shaking her head.

 

“He’s a great kid,” Tony observed presently.

 

“He’s an amazing kid,” Pepper agreed. “I’m a little concerned that Steve’s having trouble seeing that.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. What more could he say really? “I don’t know, Pep, I have no idea what’s going on with him. I don’t even know how to talk to him any more.” He ran his hand down his face, drawing in a shaky breath.

 

“Maybe Sam will have some luck,” Pepper soothed, her fingers trailing up and down his arm in a soft caress. Tony nodded. Somehow they could always count on Sam to hold things together.

 

“The kid knows,” Tony admitted. “He knows what he is. I think he’s always known.” Pepper tensed slightly.

 

“Does Steve know that?” she questioned softly.

 

“I couldn’t tell him,” Tony admitted. “I tried, I just couldn’t… I wasn’t sure what he’d say. Captain America an unknown variable. How’s that for irony?”

 

“You think he’d use it as a reason to push Jamie away?” Pepper asked shrewdly.

 

“I think it’s an excuse,” Tony shrugged. “And he’d take any one he could get right now.” Jamie let out a pained whimper and Tony leaned toward him, grasping his shoulder.

 

“Wake up, buddy,” Tony murmured, shaking Jamie gently as his distressed sounds increased in volume. “Come on, kiddo, open your eyes, that’s it.” Jamie’s eyes fluttered open and immediately Tony shifted his hand to stroke the boy’s hair, soothing him. Jamie’s eyes drooped shut again, his breathing evening out as he slipped back into slumber. Tony sank back into the sofa, rubbing his eyes as Pepper let her head rest against his shoulder once more.

 

“I certainly hope Steve’s personally breaking the kneecaps of everyone responsible for this,” Pepper observed softly, venom in her tone.

 

“I’m pretty sure he and Clint are going to have to flip for it,” Tony nodded. “He… Steve told me I’d have been a good father.”

 

“I think he’s probably right,” Pepper agreed. Tony hesitated and she turned her head to look up at him. “What is it.”

 

“Are you still dead set against having kids?” Tony blurted out. Pepper slipped out of his grasp, sitting up to look into his eyes.

 

“Yes,” she answered firmly, searching his face. “Are you?” Tony opened  his mouth to answer and just as quickly snapped it shut, his gaze drifting to the floor.

 

“You’ve given up a lot for me Pep,” he admitted finally. “A lot more than anyone should have to. You’ve cleaned up my messes, been loyal even when I didn’t deserve it. God knows I have enough issues to fill an encyclopedia but I trust you. So if you ever change your mind, we should… talk about it. Definitely, we should talk. I won’t run and shut you out like I usually do.”

 

“Tony,” Pepper sighed, her smile tender as she leaned close to him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. “I haven’t changed my mind.” Tony let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in a rush, a light blush coloring his cheeks as Pepper struggled not to laugh.

 

“I deeply, deeply appreciate the offer,” She admitted, running her fingers though his hair. 

 

“Not at all my usual narcissism,” he reflected, smiling in spite of himself. Pepper snuggled closer to him again, one arm tangling around his waist.

 

“You’re one of the good guys, Tony,” she stated. “I’ve always know that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh Beautiful for spacious skies,” Clint sang over the coms, keeping time by matching  every other beat with the concussive force of an explosive arrow. “for amber waves of grain.” 

 

“Oh my god, Clint!” Steve groaned, his shield slicing through the air to collide with the back of a random goon’s head. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“For _purple_ mountain’s majesty!” Clint continued, unimpeded, covering Natasha as she sprang through a window, shattering glass and kicking out the kneecaps of three assailants. “Above the fruited plains!” The end of the stanza was punctuated by a strangled scream as he shot the fourth in the shoulder.

 

“Your set’s over, Sinatra!” Steve ordered, snapping a small metal disk to the side of one of the server stacks. “That’s the last charge, everybody get clear!”

 

“On my way out!” Natasha nodded, grasping the rail of the stairs and vaulting down. Steve caught her around the waist as he ran, depositing her on her feet without missing a stride and together they barreled toward the door. 

 

“Hawkeye?” Steve bellowed over the coms. 

 

“Ran into some trouble!” Clint replied. 

 

“Shit!” Steve hissed, looking up into the eaves of the warehouse trying to determine where he’d last seen their archer.

 

“Clint!” Natasha shouted, her eyes wide.

 

“I have an extraction plan!” Clint replied. “Keep going, I’ll meet you outside!”

 

“Hawkeye?” Steve called out again, turning back as they cleared the door. The sound of shattering glass came from overhead and they both ducked as shards rained down on their heads. Steve was the first to look up.

 

“Shit!” he fairly squeaked, diving forward. “Shit shit!” He barely managed to catch Clint before he hit the pavement, rolling to his knees with the archer in his arms.

 

“My hero,” Clint declared, batting his eyes as he draped his arms around Steve’s neck.

 

“Light it up,” Steve rolled his eyes in disgust. Clint drew one arm back, neatly clicking the ignition button in his palm with his most smarmy expression. Steve winced and a moment later the air crackled, static blooming out from around them like a wave as lights shorted out, everything within a three block radius going dark.

 

“Well that was excessive,” Natasha remarked, dusting off her hands as Steve set Clint on his feet.

 

“The EMP won’t damage anything beyond the twenty foot mark,” Steve reminded, shaking his head. “We had to be sure we rendered everything inside the building useless. Sirens went off in the distance and as one they took off at a jog, disappearing down the nearest alley. Natasha grabbed a duffel from behind a dumpster, emptying it and tossing it at Clint who stuffed his bow and quiver inside. She handed them both bundles, pulling on her hoodie and tucking her hair back from her face.

 

“That went better than expected,” Steve observed, taking a pair of glasses from the pocket of his denim jacket and adjusting them on his face as he draped his arm around Natasha’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah well we might have a problem,” Clint observed, shouldering his duffel bag and pulling his ball cap down over the cut on his forehead.

 

“Why?” Steve asked cautiously.

 

“There were supposed to be thirty computers,” Clint stated grimly. “I counted twenty-five.”

 

“Great,” Steve sighed as they slipped into the early morning traffic of New Yorkers headed to work. “Just great.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What do you want, strawberry or orange?” Phil asked with a frown, inspecting the rack of fancy vitamin fortified juice boxes tucked in the refrigerator door.

 

“Strawberry,” Jamie replied, his own brow knitting as Phil closed the refrigerator, tugging the straw off the back and jamming it through the seal. “Are you scared?” Phil paused in surprise.

 

“No,” he shook his head, handing over the juice box before making his way to the k-cup machine. “I always get a little worried when Clint’s out on a mission. I worry about all of them. But there’s no reason to be afraid, even if they get hurt, they’ll be fine. It’s just hard not knowing.”

 

“Do you worry about Steve too?” Jamie asked, his thoughtful frown deepening.

 

“Steve too,” Phil nodded with a gentle smile, ruffling the boy’s hair.

 

“He’s a super-soldier though,” Jamie pointed out.

 

“He can still get hurt,” Phil explained gently, stirring his coffee. “He’s been hurt a few times.” Jamie’s eyes widened in surprise and Phil set his coffee on the counter, kneeling in front of the child.

 

“No matter how strong someone might be, they can still get hurt,” Phil explained. “It takes a lot to hurt Steve though, so I’m sure he’s fine. When you care about people it’s difficult to see them in pain, even if you know everything will be all right in the end, it’s still hard to watch them suffer.”

 

“But they’re okay?” Jamie asked. 

 

“I’m pretty sure that if they weren’t, I’d have heard something by now,” Phil nodded, stretching to his feet and grabbing his coffee. He gave Jamie a scrutinizing look. “JARVIS, I thought we’d increased his recommended caloric intake, he doesn’t look like he’s putting on weight.”

 

“I have, Agent Coulson,” JARVIS’ tone was near exasperation. “By roughly twenty-two percent over recommendation for his age and percentile, and you are correct, I’ve noted no appreciable weight gain in the last week.”

 

“Something else to worry about,” Phil stated drily, rolling his eyes. He opened the fridge, taking another juice box out of the bin on the door and setting it on the counter. “Here, have an orange too.” The elevator at the end of the hall dinged softly.

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you complain at the time,” Clint’s voice floated to them and Phil let out a relieved sigh.

 

“That’s because your ears were ringing from the lump on your head,” Natasha shot back. 

 

“Can we save the fighting for after we eat?” Steve asked with a sigh. “I’m _starving_!”

 

“You’re always starving,” Clint countered.

 

“Bruce made hash brown casserole this morning,” Phil suggested with a smile as they appeared in the kitchen doorway. Jamie let out a happy sound, scurrying across the kitchen to wrap one arm around Steve and the other around Clint.”

 

“Hey, buddy!” Clint grinned, ruffling his hair playfully. “You miss us or something?” Jamie tilted his head to look up at them, nodding.

 

“Everyone’s fine,” Steve assured, giving the arm wrapped around his waist a gentle squeeze.

 

“Clint’s just as dumb as ever,” Natasha added, slipping past them to dig through the fridge.

 

“What did you do?” Phil asked resignedly as Clint and Steve untangled themselves from Jamie’s grasp, moving into the kitchen after Natasha.

 

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done,” Clint insisted, getting plates out of the cupboard as Natasha handed the leftovers to Steve.

 

“Not at all encouraging,” Phil reminded, rubbing the spot on his chest where the scar from his spear wound remained.

 

“I’d tell you everything,” Steve admitted, crossing to the microwave, Jamie practically on his heels. “But I think in this case you’re going to want the plausible deniability.” Phil let out a hiss, holding back a swear as he rubbed his eyes. Clint set the plates on the counter, slipping his arms around Phil’s waist and pulling him close.

 

“Can I help?” Jamie asked, leaning into Steve’s leg.

 

“We’re just going to heat up some leftovers and then clean up and get some sleep,” Steve assured, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “We’ve been up all night.” Jamie’s face fell and Steve gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

 

“I think he had other plans,” Steve teased, shooting Clint a smirk.

 

“I promise I’ll be down to play later,” Clint grinned back as Steve pulled the casserole from the microwave, stirring it and putting it back in.

 

“There’s corn bread,” Natasha announced, shoving the pan in the oven to warm.

 

“That’ll be enough for me and Steve,” Clint observed, nuzzling Phil’s neck. “What are you going to have?” Natasha only glared at him.

 

“I’m heading down to my office,” Phil sighed, pulling away. “Steve do you want me to take Jamie with me?” Jamie let out a faint whine, grasping hold of the hem of Steve’s shirt and shaking his head.

 

“Jamie, you need to use words,” Steve sighed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’ll take him down to the lab or something after we eat.”

 

“Get some rest,” Phil pleaded, giving Clint’s hand a squeeze for disappearing down the hall.

 

“I’m going to sleep for a year,” Clint sighed, taking the butter from Natasha and dumping it on the table with the cutlery.

 

“After, Bruce checks you,” Steve added with a frown, removing the casserole from the microwave and dishing up plates.

 

“Steve, help me with my straw?” Jamie asked softly, tugging on his shirt again and holding out his second juice box.

 

“Give us a hand here, Clint?” Steve asked, nodding in Jamie’s direction. 

 

“Yeah sure,” Clint agreed, pushing himself away from the counter and kneeling on the floor beside them.

 

The scream that rent the air was almost bloodcurdling in it’s ferocity and Steve froze wide eyed at Jamie’s flushed, angry face. The boy drew back his arm and before Steve could spring into motion Jamie struck out with all he was worth, slapping and shoving Clint away from him.

 

It couldn’t have hurt, not physically, the small arms so thin and frail couldn’t possibly have inflicted even the least amount of damage but the stunned, wounded expression Clint wore under the assault of haphazardly flailing arms spoke differently. The plate in Steve’s hands hit the granite counter with a sharp clap as he grasped hold of both of Jamie’s arms, pulling him back.

 

“Stop!” he ordered with far more force than he’d intended, his sharp tone cutting off the noise of protest mid stream. He caught himself instantly, drawing in a breath through his nose. When he spoke again his voice was quitter, but no less forceful as he dropped to one knee, turning Jamie to face him. “How dare you, lash out at Clint like that, what’s he done but played with you and read to you and loved you from the moment you came here, how _dare_ you.”

 

“Steve,” Clint’s voice warbled, his expression stricken as Jamie’s lower lip trembled. Natasha covered her mouth with one hand, the pan of cornbread clutched in the other as she stared at them as if frozen in place.

 

“No,” Steve shook his head. Clint made to interrupt again but Steve turned to him, anger clear in the set of his jaw.

 

“No,” he repeated. He turned back to Jamie. “How could you be so cruel to him? How could.” his voice trailed off as huge tears spilled down Jamie’s cheeks, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs as his fist knotted in Steve’s t-shirt over his heart.

 

“Apologize,” Steve demanded, but the harshness had completely gone out of his tone. Jamie drew in a ragged breath, struggling to hold back the dam as he rubbed his eyes and nose on his sleeve, curling in on himself as if he feared reprisal.

 

“Steve, it’s fine,” Clint insisted, still looking rattled.

 

“It’s not,” Steve replied, shaking his head before turning back to the boy. “Jamie, apologize to Clint. We don’t hurt our friends.”

 

“‘M sorry,” he choked out, his whole body shaking. 

 

“It’s okay,” Clint answered softly, raising a hand to rub Jamie’s back and aborting the motion half way. Jamie let out a wounded sound, maintaining his hold on Steve as he curled against Clint’s chest, finally breaking down.

 

“‘M sorry,” he repeated between sobs.

 

“It’s okay,” Clint insisted, near tears himself as he twined his arms around the shaking child. “I know.” He closed his eyes, hugging tighter as Jamie repeated muffled apologies into his chest.

 

“What the hell is going on in here?” Bucky demanded, appearing in the doorway, with a frown. 

 

“I… I don’t know,” Steve admitted, holding fast to the small hand still fisted in his shirt.

 

“He tried to give Clint a knuckle sandwich,” Natasha replied her expression stunned.

 

“Where does the acorn fall?” Bucky declared, rolling his eyes in exasperation as Jamie’s sobs dissolved into muffled hiccups and he trembled in exhaustion.

 

“Are we done?” Bucky asked seriously. Jamie didn’t answer but that seemed to satisfy Bucky who nodded, reaching down and scooping up the child who had gone completely limp.

 

“Bucky?” Steve’s face contorted in a pained expression as he scrambled to his feet.

 

“He’s a kid having a tantrum, Steve,” Bucky insisted, turning toward the doorway as Clint shakily hauled himself off the floor. “Just because _you_ never had one doesn’t mean it’s not perfectly normal behavior.”

 

“Yeah, but,” Steve’s voice trailed off as Bucky shook his head.

 

“Eat something and get some sleep,” Bucky insisted, nodding at the leftovers. “I’m putting him down for a nap.” Jamie let out a faint whine of protest, half-heartedly trying to squirm free.

 

“No you don’t get to do that,” Bucky stated firmly but not harshly. “You acted up and you’re going to have a nap and you better be in a better mood when you wake up. You don’t get to complain until you’re ready to behave.” Jamie sniffled, pressing his face to Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t feel sorry for you either,” Bucky added, heading for the stairs, snuggling Jamie against his chest despite his words. “You’re the one who started it. Them’s the breaks kid.” Steve stared unmoving at the empty doorway to the rec room with a tortured expression as Bucky’s footsteps faded up the stairs.

 

“Steve, eat something,” Natasha prompted, setting the food out on the table as Clint collapsed into one of the chairs, rubbing his face with both hands.

 

“What just happened?” Steve asked in a small voice, turning to meet her eye imploringly. She gave him a calculating look, her brow furrowed as if in consideration.

 

“I’m going to go with parenthood,” she shrugged finally, returning her attention to breakfast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You know what’s wrong, don’t you,” Bruce’s voice was cautious and Betty glanced up from her terminal to see him framed in the doorway of her lab. She bit her lip, glancing away. “With Jamie?”

 

“I’m, I’m really not qualified to say,” she admitted.

 

“But you remember something from a project you worked on or a consultancy or a paper,” Bruce pressed, his footfalls near silent as he approached the lab bench she was working at. She considered a moment before nodding slowly.

 

“How sure are you?” he asked.

 

“Pretty sure,” she admitted.

 

“How bad?” Betty looked up at him with a torn expression.

 

“It’s not good,” she allowed. “But the thing is, Steve’s here and he made it as far as he did without treatment. That means we can look at the best case scenarios when we get the results back.” Bruce nodded in acceptance, knowing she wouldn’t offer more. He reached out, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before turning toward the door.

 

“I’m sorry,” Betty declared, swallowing, her eyes misting as Bruce turned back with a bemused expression. “I shouldn’t pressure you about a family.”

 

“Betty,” Bruce shook his head.

 

“It’s not fair,” she interrupted. “If you’d told me it was because you were an Avenger and we weren’t safe, or because you were concerned about the genetic ramifications I wouldn’t have balked. I’d have been disappointed, but.” She drew in a breath, letting it out in a sigh.

 

“You’re not dangerous,” she insisted. “It’s the one excuse I can’t accept. And I hate that you feel that way about yourself.” Bruce stared back at her for a long, painful moment before retracing his steps and taking her hand once more.

 

“Betty, I have to feel that way,” Bruce insisted pleadingly. “The moment I let myself believe that I’m not a threat is the moment I lose control of it. I can’t let my vigilance slip even for a second. I can be here now with these people, with you, because I never lie to myself about the risks. I am dangerous, I keep a handle on it by remembering it every minute of every day.” She drew in a stifled sob and Bruce pulled her into his arms.

 

“I have so much to be grateful for,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m not going to tarnish that by being ungrateful in the face of what I don’t have.”

 

“I love you,” she murmured into his neck.

 

“I’ll always love you,” Bruce declared with conviction. “I know it doesn’t solve anything.”

 

“For right now,” she assured, kissing his cheek. “It’s enough.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Damn I’m glad you’re here,” Tony insisted as the elevator doors opened. “and I don’t say those things lightly.” 

 

“Someone will get the idea you’re not an irretrievably self-centered smart ass,” Sam replied with a half smile.

 

“I have a reputation to keep up,” Tony defended. Down the hall they could hear the unmistakable sound of an Avengers post dinner clean up. Laughter and the occasional raised voice over the sound of clinking dishes. There was a quality to it that was at once both domestic and juvenile and Sam could never decide if it reminded him of coming home or shipping out. In a way he wasn’t sure they weren’t the same.

 

“Is that Sam?” Bucky leaned out of the doorway of the kitchen, his hands braced on the frame. He leaned back only a moment, his fingers gripping into the plaster. “Clint, Sam’s here!” Bucky pushed himself away from the doorway, striding down the hall and wrapping Sam in a rough bear hug.

 

“Decided to grace us with your presence?” he challenged as Sam laughed.

 

“Hey, ease up on me,” Sam replied, thumping him on the back in return as Bucky dragged him the few remaining steps down the hall, half shoving him into the kitchen.

 

“Hey Sam!” Clint beamed, hurrying in through the doorway to the rec room at almost the same time and closing the distance between them in two strides to pull Sam into a choke hold.

 

“Damn, Barton you’re like a squid!” Sam teased, wrapping an arm around his neck. 

 

“It’s good to have you home,” Steve declared, drying the soap suds from his hands with a kitchen towel. Sam gave him a mock glare, throwing off Bucky and Clint.

 

“What the hell, Steve?” he demanded feinting indignation as he wrapped both arms around Steve’s neck. “Stark’s the one who has to call me? What’d you do, lose your phone again, old man?”

 

“I washed it with my chinos,” Steve deadpanned, shaking his head “those new fangled washing machines.”

 

“My heart,” Tony groaned, clutching his chest. Sam laughed as Steve draped an arm around his shoulders. Clint grabbed the towel from him, taking Steve’s place at the sink beside Bruce.

 

“It’ll be nice to have someone with sense around here,” Bruce observed practically, giving Sam a smile.

 

“That used to be you,” Sam grinned, poking Steve in the chest. “I am eating this up, Mister Responsibility with a Hydra Love Child.”

 

“That’s offensive,” Steve complained.

 

“That’s hysterical,” Tony protested as Clint giggled. Sam gave him a look of smug agreement.

 

“Seriously, did they not show you any safe sex films in the army?” Sam ribbed mercilessly.

 

“They showed us the VD one,” Steve snarked drily. “Bucky fainted.”

 

“Punk,” Bucky snorted, cuffing him in the back of the head.

 

“Man, it’s the twenty-first century,” Sam gloated, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. “we know what causes that now.” Steve let out a snort of a laugh.

 

“Questionable scientific practices?” Steve asked drolly.

 

“Damn straight,” Sam nodded. “Where’s your rug rat anyway?” Clint handed Bruce the last pan, nodding in the direction of the rec room and Sam pulled free of Steve, folding his arms over his chest as he crossed the kitchen to lean in the doorway. Jamie was sprawled in Phil’s lap as they sat on the sofa, a picture book propped open in front of them, Thor sitting at their feet with a rapt expression. Natasha, Jane and Betty had scattered themselves around the room, most of them pretending to be otherwise engaged and doing a less than successful job of it.

 

“The mouse hurried to his safe home. He lit the fire, he ate his supper,” Phil read, his chin resting on the top of Jamie’s head as he turned the page. “And he finished reading his book.”

 

“Hello, Sam,” Natasha said, uncurling from her spot across from the pair in one of the arm chairs, setting her tea cup aside.

 

“Hey Tasha,” Sam grinned, crossing the room to wrap her in a hug.

 

“It’s good to see you,” She declared as the others called their greetings.

 

“Good to be back,” he replied. “Ladies, Phil.”

 

“Welcome back,” Phil gave him a nod, shifting Jamie on his lap. “Jamie this is Sam Wilson.” Jamie stared at Sam with an unreadable expression before craning his head to look up at Phil. 

 

“Falcon,” he stated. Phil nodded as Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. He shot a look at Steve who shook his head subtly. 

 

“Not sure how I feel about that,” Sam admitted uncomfortably.

 

“Maybe you should feel like DC isn’t as safe as you think,” Natasha prodded gently. Sam gave her a look before crouching down in front of the sofa.

 

“Hey, bud,” he said with a smile, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet ya.” Jamie took his hand hesitantly.

 

“That’s right,” Sam encouraged. “Give me a good firm shake and look me right in the eye.” His smile widened as Jamie’s grip tightened. 

 

“You don’t live with the other Avengers,” Jamie observed, his brow crinkling. 

 

“I’ve got a job, it’s a pretty important job,” Sam admitted. 

 

“Like Tony and Bruce have other jobs?” Jamie asked.

 

“Yeah, like that,” Sam nodded. “When soldiers come back from war sometimes they have problems, they have a hard time getting used to their life at home. So I help them with that.”

 

“Is that why you’re here?” Jamie asked.

 

“No I’m here because Barnes owes me twenty bucks,” Sam teased as Bucky rolled his eyes “Why, you having some trouble getting used to things around here?” Jamie gave him a cautious look, shrugging.

 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice softened. “there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t feel bad about that, okay? You should have seen me when I came back from war, I was pretty messed up. But it got better. Got to tell you though, you’re the shortest soldier I’ve ever seen, man.”

 

“Sam,” Steve sighed, shaking his head as Jamie hid his smile.

 

“Oh come on,” Sam scoffed. “I call em like I see em. Don’t worry about the old guy, he’s a mother hen. You think about it and if you want we can talk tomorrow, yeah?” Jamie nodded shyly.

 

“Good, no pressure,” Sam nodded, giving Jamie’s knee a squeeze and rolling to his feet.

 

“It’s time you were in bed, buddy,” Steve reminded gently.

 

“I’ll take him,” Jane offered, uncurling from her chair and scooping Jamie out of Phil’s lap, settling the boy on her hip. “Want me to sit with you until you fall asleep?” One of Jamie’s arms tangled around her neck but the other reached out to Steve, his fingers scrabbling as if in desperation.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Steve soothed, moving closer so that Jamie’s small hand could grasp on to a fistful of his t-shirt. Steve ran his fingers soothingly through the boy’s hair as Jamie let his head sink to Jane’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You had a rough day, that’s all. Everything’s going to be fine. You get some sleep, I’ll be up soon.”

 

“I’ll bunk with you tonight, okay?” Clint offered, settling onto the couch beside Phil as Jamie nodded reluctantly, releasing his grip on Steve with a heartsick sigh. 

 

“I’m going to call it a night,” Betty declared, tucking her tablet under her arm, following Jane up the stairs and leaving the Avengers alone in the rec room.

 

“Get you anything Sam?” Tony asked, heading to the bar. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure Jamie was out of sight before he grabbed the scotch. Sam stifled a snort of amusement, sharing a meaningful look with Steve who only shook his head.

 

“Beer for me,” Sam replied as Bucky moved to break into the beer and wine fridge behind the bar.

 

“It’s not that I’m not glad to see you,” Steve began, smiling at Sam as they all settled in.

 

“Good because I was starting to wonder,” Sam prodded, accepting the bottle Bucky handed him.

 

“But you didn’t have to come all the way to New York,” Steve finished.

 

“Are you serious?” Sam looked affronted, turing to Bucky. “is he serious?”

 

“He’s always serious,” Bucky shrugged.

 

“There’s a clone of you wearing Iron Man PJ’s and reading,” Sam pulled the book out from between the couch cushions. “Mouse Soup… what the hell is this?”

 

“It’s a classic,” Phil insisted, his cheeks coloring as he sipped the Scotch Tony handed him.

 

“That is just plain twisted,” Sam insisted, tossing the book aside. “and eating PB&J with Hawkeye and you can’t figure out why I’m here?”

 

“The deal was we called you in moments of desperation,” Steve insisted guiltily.

 

“This doesn’t seem desperate to you?” Sam demanded, waving his hand at the toys strewn over the end tables. 

 

“Sam you have a life outside of here that means something to you,” Steve defended. “You are not the team psychiatrist.”

 

“I am everybody’s psychiatrist,” Sam wagged a finger at him as Tony chuckled. “I’m _that_ friend. The one everyone tells their problems to.”

 

“And that’s fair?” Steve sighed.

 

“Him and the ‘fair’ thing again,” Sam shook his head, giving Natasha a look.

 

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” she shrugged, stirring her vodka.

 

“Sam,” Steve gave him an apologetic look. “You don’t even have any experience with kids.”

 

“Good thing I’m not here for the kid,” Sam remarked, his brow furrowing. Steve stared at him blankly a moment.

 

“Me?” he asked. Sam only gave him a meaningful look. “Really?”

 

“It’s called an intervention,” Tony explained, clapping Steve on the shoulder as he handed him a scotch. “It’s when your friends.”

 

“Tony I know what an intervention is,” Steve groaned, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Come on, man,” Sam chided gently. “You look like hell. Of course I’m going to come up from DC. I’m not going to let you deal with this on your own, none of us are.” Steve’s shoulders sagged a little and Bucky reached out, gently gripping the back of his neck.

 

“He seemed like he was doing better, and then today,” Steve’s voice trailed off and he slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he took a sip of his whisky.

 

“And you didn’t see that coming?” Sam asked incredulously. Steve gave him a confused look and Sam rolled his eyes. “Steve, the most well adjusted kid in the world has bad days, you need to figure he’s going to have more than most and that’s nobody’s fault. Well, nobody here.”

 

“I don’t even know what happened!” Steve admitted miserably. Clint bit back a chuckle as Sam held out his arms with an exasperated look as if to say ‘duh’.

 

“You really do not deal well with the whole fly by the seat of your pants thing, do you?” Tony observed.

 

“Not helpful, Tony,” Bruce chided gently. Thor glanced between them from his spot on the floor at Natasha’s feet, shaking his head with a sigh.

 

“The lad carries great wounds of spirit from his treatment at the hands of Hydra,” the Asgardian observed somberly. “and I believe he is seeking some connection to his own identity through Stephen.” The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at Steve.

 

“He knows?” Steve whispered, his eyes widening in surprise. “He knows he’s a clone?” Thor gave a firm nod in reply.

 

“How long has he known?”

 

“Those responsible for his creation often spoke to him of you,” Thor replied, mulling his wine pensively. Steve gaped as he looked around the room.

 

“Am I the only one who didn’t know this?” Steve demanded as the others refused to meet his gaze.

 

“I didn’t know,” Sam shrugged nonchalantly, raising one hand. Steve let out a noise of disgust, pushing himself out of his chair and draining his scotch glass before dropping it on the end table beside a toy robot and storming up the stairs. 

 

“Aww, Steve, come on!” Sam called after him. Bucky made to follow but Sam waved him back, hurrying after the blond. The others turned to look at Thor.

 

“None of you would have told him,” Thor remarked knowingly, sipping his wine. “I do not fear his anger.”

 

“That’s because he’ll just be angry with us for not telling him before you did,” Clint huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Thor only shrugged, taking another draught of his wine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Agent 048.”

 

Jamie’s spine stiffened, his eyes growing impossibly wide. He stood rooted to the bathroom floor, his heart fluttering in his chest. He swallowed, his eyes darting to the door to make certain it was completely closed. He turned slowly, his gaze falling on the flickering screen of the wall mounted monitor by the sink.

 

“Agent 048, report.”

 

“Yes?” Jamie whispered. The static on the screen cleared by increments and he clambered onto the step stool.

 

“Are you secure, agent?” the dark haired man’s voice broke up slightly, but he could be understood clearly enough. “Report status.” Jamie swallowed.

 

“The immediate area is secure, sir” he replied, keeping his voice low. He glanced at the door again and then back to the screen. 

 

“It seems like at least one good thing has come out of this fiasco,” the man declared sourly. “We’ve lost the training facility but maybe we can recoup this in intelligence. Do you have access to the Avengers’ central main frame?”

 

“No sir,” Jamie answered.

 

“Are there any exploitable breeches?” the man asked.

 

“Tony Stark has good security, sir,” Jamie replied.

 

“That’s as expected,” the man admitted with a disappointed frown. “Have they made any  progress in unraveling our little genetic encoding problem?”

 

“I… I don’t know,” Jamie stared at the screen in confusion, his brow knitting.

 

“Agent 048,” the man let out a huff of exasperation. “You’ve been with the Avengers for over a week. Are you telling me they haven’t made any attempts at all to correct your flaws?” Jamie’s breath hitched but he stared back at the screen unmoving.

 

“They… I think they ran tests,” he stated, finally. “I don’t know what they found.”

 

“Better than nothing,” the man frowned in obvious annoyance. “We have an extraction team ready to collect you and retrieve the data. Do you have a viable exit strategy?”

 

“I… I can’t get out.” Jamie admitted. The man gave him a dark glower. “I think I could let someone in. But not if they’re watching me.”

 

“We can provide an appropriate distraction,” the man nodded. “Zero three hundred tomorrow.”

 

“No,” Jamie said quickly.

 

“Excuse me, agent?” the man’s eyes narrowed menacingly. 

 

“Friday,” Jamie’s voice wavered. “Bet… the lab staff will be away on Friday.”

 

“Very good,” the man nodded in satisfaction. “Agent 048, wait for our signal. Do not let the Avengers suspect anything or we will will terminate the entire operation.”

 

“Yes sir,” Jamie’s voice faltered only slightly. He waited for the screen to flicker off and then turned, hopping down from the step stool. He opened the bathroom door, padding out into the bedroom.

 

“Hey kiddo,” Clint yawned sleepily, stretching out on the trundle bed. “You were in there a while, you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Jamie answered, clambering under the covers.

 

“You sure?” Clint asked, sitting up and rubbing one eye, blinking the other blearily.

 

“Yeah,” Jamie nodded, swallowing as he curled into a ball.

 


	16. Lights the traveller in the dark

“That is one messed up little dude,” Sam declared, folding his arms over his chest as he entered the kitchen. Steve looked up from the mug clutched in his hands, his coffee had grown cold ages ago but he hadn’t moved from the table, too distracted by the low hum of voices out in the rec room.

 

“I think we already knew that,” Natasha remarked, leaning against the wall just inside the doorway, her attention focused on the rec room where Thor and Jamie were engaged in a round of Mario Kart.

 

“Do you want us to give you some privacy?” Clint suggested, his brow furrowed in concern, as he glanced at Phil who was nursing his coffee then turned to Tony who shrugged, popping blueberries in his mouth. 

 

“No, it’s,” Steve let out a sigh. “Maybe you guys should stay, I mean if you want.” he looked over at Natasha who met his eye with a gentle smile.

 

“You don’t have to,” Steve added quickly. “I mean if you’re not comfortable.”

 

“I’m the king of ignoring social awkwardness,” Tony remarked, flopping down in the chair beside Steve and propping his feet on the corner of the table.

 

“At least it’s patron saint,” Phil observed drily.

 

“Bucky didn’t stick around?” Sam asked curiously.

 

“He said he had to go shoot something,” Natasha answered, moving back from the doorway with a certain amount of reluctance.

 

“I can understand that impulse,” Sam nodded, taking the fistful of drawing paper that he’d tucked under his arm and spreading some of them out on the table. “I had a talk with the therapist who meets with the kids who’ve lost parents in combat. She said that even at six he’d probably have a hard time articulating what he’s been thinking, I figured his background wouldn’t help either. I gave him ideas of things to draw and this is what I got.” 

 

Pictures of laboratory equipment littered the table, men in lab coats or special forces uniforms.

 

“He’s really good for six,” Tony observed. Natasha shot him a look. “Well he is!” Steve’s fingers brushed over a drawing of Jamie and Bucky on the trampoline in the gym, one of Tony with his blow torch that made Steve cringe slightly. Phil with a book.

 

“Did you actually do that?” Steve demanded, pointing at a picture that looked as if Clint were taking a swan dive off the top of the tree fort.

 

“No!” Clint replied defensively. Phil bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Not exactly.” Steve rolled his eyes.

 

“Not to be harsh, Sam, but these don’t seem unusual, all things considered,” Phil offered cautiously. “I don’t think any of us were expecting to see pictures of spiders and clowns.”

 

“Clowns are not scary,” Clint insisted, with a condescending look. Phil shot him a look. “Robots with laser eyes, those are scary!”

 

“My point,” Phil glared.

 

“Oh I agree,” Sam nodded, waving a hand at the table. “It isn’t the drawings, it’s the way he answered.” Sam selected one of the drawings, placing it on the top of the pile. 

 

“When I asked him how this made him feel,” Sam stated, looking uncomfortable. “he said afraid.”

 

“Is that?” Steve paused, his voice hitching as he stared at a figure in red white and blue bearing a shield, a fiery explosion taking up most of the picture. “me?”

 

“He said that a lot,” Sam nodded sharply, picking out pictures of the other Avengers. Thor in a lightening storm, Hawkeye, his bow drawn amid a hail of bullets.

 

“Why would he be afraid of me?” Clint looked crushed as he stared at the drawing.

 

“Maybe he’s still afraid of the Avengers on some level,” Sam shrugged. “It’s a lot of programing to get past. The thing is, when I asked him how he felt about these, he couldn’t tell me.”

 

Sam selected a drawing of a subway train, a small figure huddling on the tracks before it. Another depicted a lab table with a faceless patient strapped to it. Even more disturbing was what appeared to be a row of primates and large dogs in cages and Steve shuddered, not even willing to speculate on what reason Jamie would have to draw them.

 

“The whole thing might have been the most confusing and evasive therapy session I’ve ever participated in,” Sam stated. He seemed to consider this a moment before adding. “my own included. The picture of Avengers tower came with a five minute dissertation on what the sun looks like in the mornings. The picture of the bathtub with Natasha, he tried to hide so I couldn’t see.”

 

“That was the first day he was here,” Natasha observed, her eyes going soft as she studied the drawing. She seemed to shake off the reaction, turing her attention to the tower instead. “He loves the sun, we went up to the roof to watch the sun rise the other morning. They,” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. 

 

“They never let him see the sun.”

 

“I asked him who lived in the tower,” Sam continued, his expression pinched. “He didn’t list himself.”

 

“That’s a little… dissociative,” Phil observed. Sam gave a snort of agreement.

 

“He’s got a lot of problems to work though,” he shook his head with a sigh. “I’m not sure I’m the right choice though, he doesn’t quite trust me and if Bucky hadn’t been sitting beside him drawing flowers and kittens for the first half of the session I don’t think he’d have answered me at all.” Tony and Clint both struggled to hide their amusement at that.

 

“Well it’s not like Bucky doesn’t need the therapy too,” Clint pointed out, grinning.

 

“This is funny to you?” Steve asked in exasperation.

 

“Yes Steve,” Natasha gave him a droll look. “James drawing lol-cats in the middle of therapy with a pack of Crayola’s is hysterical.”

 

“What should we do?” Steve asked worriedly.

 

“Well don’t push,” Sam replied. “hang the pictures up somewhere and see if you can’t get him to talk about them. Maybe he’ll tell you what he wasn’t comfortable telling me.”

 

“Right,” Tony nodded, scooping up a handful of the drawings and crossing the kitchen, he stopped at one of the drawers, pulling out a box of tacks before moving around the table to the wall.

 

“Ooo, not the Jackson Pollock,” Steve cringed as Tony pulled it off the wall, setting it on the floor.

 

“Pepper is going to kill you,” Natasha observed, shaking her head.

 

“I like this one better,” Tony insisted, holding out an Iron Man drawing before tacking it directly to the wall. Phil made a face as Tony stood back to admire it. “I mean that’s art, right?”

 

“I think my inner child wants to get out of this room before ‘mom’ comes home,” Clint declared. Sam shot him an irritated look.

 

“He needs a sense of stability and structure,” Sam continued, looking completely done with the lot of them. “He needs to learn what to do with freedom but he needs the safety net of having some idea of what’s going to happen. What were you planning on doing about school?”

 

“I… um,” Steve paused, giving Sam a cautious look as the shorter man stared him down. “I hadn’t… exactly.”

 

“I don’t think he has the social skills to deal with a classroom right now,” Sam frowned. “but I think it would help if we tried to get him as close to normal as possible. There are plenty of alternatives.”

 

“I mean,” Steve sighed. “I… we haven’t decided if he should stay here or not.” Sam stared back at him blandly a moment.

 

“Are you shitting me, Rogers?” he asked finally.

 

“You know, there’s a reason you don’t live here,” Steve pointed out defensively. Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“There’s a SHIELD asset and her husband, retired field agent, willing to adopt him,” Phil supplied. 

 

“More like chomping at the bit,” Natasha allowed. Sam looked between them, then at Steve before taking in the tense set of Clint’s shoulders and the deliberate way Tony was ignoring them as he hung drawings on the wall. 

 

“Look,” Sam sighed, turning back to Steve. “Whatever you’re going to do, don’t put it off. He needs a sense of direction.”

 

“Bruce and Tony have been running some medical tests,” Steve replied. “I just wanted a complete picture before we decide anything.” 

 

“Yeah I should get to that,” Tony half snapped, jamming the last tack into the wall with more force than was strictly necessary and all but stomping out the door and down the hall.

 

“I’m sensing tension here,” Sam observed drily.

 

“And that’s our cue,” Phil announced, his hand settling on Clint’s lower back, steering him toward the door and motioning Natasha to follow. She nodded, giving Steve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading out into the rec room to join the raised voices playing video games.

 

“You want to talk about this?” Sam asked, slumping down in one of the chairs and folding his arms on the table.

 

“I can’t say anything I haven’t already said,” Steve answered with a strained look.

 

“Steve, you and I both know there are things you haven’t been ready to talk about,” Sam prodded gently. “I don’t pretend to know what, I figured if you needed to talk about it, you’d get to it eventually. But the thing is, I’m your friend first, and I don’t want to see you do something you’re going to regret.”

 

“Me either,” Steve admitted, his attention wandering to the wall of crayon drawings. “I just want him… He should have the best chance possible.”

 

“You know it’s not like when you were a kid,” Sam offered. “Half the country’s single parents, it isn’t going to put him at a disadvantage.”

 

“I know that,” Steve assured, looking uncomfortable. “living with us might.”

 

“Captain?” JARVIS’ voice interrupted and Steve blew out a huff of a breath.

 

“What is it JARVIS?” He sighed.

 

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but if I could have a moment?” Steve nodded, giving Sam an apologetic look.

 

“I’m going to sit down with Jay and go over the tapes,” Sam sighed, standing to his feet and shuffling toward the door. “I’ll get back with you later.” Steve nodded waiting until Sam was half way down the hall.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Captain, I believe I’ve determined why hackers have been attempting to breech our security monitoring systems,” JARVIS answered.

 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Steve admitted, rubbing his forehead. “You said our little… field trip took care of that.”

 

“It appeared to, yes,” JARVIS confirmed. “However, approximately fifteen hours ago a remote server began making attempts to activate the emergency internal communications channels utilized by security monitoring.” Steve winced.

 

“Any luck tracing them?” Steve asked. 

 

“No sir,” JARVIS answered apologetically. “I did not notice the pattern until I ran diagnostics on the data this morning. The attempts abruptly stopped just after midnight and haven’t resumed.” Steve bit his lip, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“I’m kind of out of my depth here,” Steve sighed, pushing himself out of the chair and heading out into the hall. “I hate to say it, but I think I’m going to have to drag your old man into this.” he tried for joking but his expression came off strained.

 

“Advisable, sir,” JARVIS agreed. “Would you like to tell him, or should I?”

 

“I’m the one that asked you to keep Tony out of it,” Steve shook his head, pushing the elevator call button. “I’ll tell him.”

 

"If I might remind you, Captain,” JARVIS stated. “Sir has forbidden me from discussing matters of security with him unless and I quote; the world is coming to a damn end.”

 

“So,” Steve allowed himself a small smile, boarding the elevator and leaning back against the wall, “Only on Tuesdays then?”

 

“Naturally,” JARVIS answered drily, his tone perturbed as the doors to the lift closed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, keep your knees bent,” Bucky instructed, his tone warm. “and your hands up. That’s it. This isn’t something you’re going to get the hang of right from the start so don’t feel bad when you make mistakes. Okay, now, I want you to hit me as hard as you can, just like I showed you.”

 

Bucky raised his boxing glove covered hands in front of his face as he knelt on the floor, peering at Jamie from between them. The boy stared back at him unmoving a long moment before lowering his own gloves to stare at them.

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky assured, lowering his guard. “It’s like a game. I promise you’re not going to hurt me. That’s what the gloves are for. And I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even going to swing, just block you.”

 

“I failed all the combat training exercises,” Jamie admitted, his shoulders hunching up around his ears in shame. Bucky’s expression softened.

 

“Hey, this isn’t a training exercise, there’s no pass or fail,” Bucky insisted. “This is, well, I thought it might be fun. I taught Steve to box when he was about your age. We didn’t have nice stuff like this though so we got pretty black and blue sometimes. Give it a try, if you don’t like it we’ll find something else to do.” He raised his hands again and Jamie drew back his arm to deliver a right cross that bounced off Bucky’s glove.

 

“That’s a good try,” Bucky nodded encouragingly. “try to follow all the way though, it takes some practice. Jamie swung again, this time losing his balance as his arm swung though the punch and Bucky made an approving sound in the back of his throat, grinning as he reached out to catch the boy before he could fall.

 

“You taught Steve to fight?” Jamie asked curiously as Bucky set him back on his feet.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled fondly. “My dad used to box when he was young. Steve was kind of small and scrawny when we were kids, I always worried about him. So I showed him how to box so that if anyone gave him a hard time he could defend himself.”

 

“He was little like me?” Jamie asked incredulously.

 

“Hey,” Bucky soothed. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts out little. It’s like I always told Steve, you can’t let that stuff bother you. The people who really care about you aren’t going to look down on you.”

 

“You care about Steve a lot,” Jamie observed.

 

“You like him a lot too, don’t you?” Bucky asked with a grin. Jamie nodded. “I had sisters growing up, Steve, well, Steve was my brother.”

 

“You’re genetically related to him?” Jamie asked, his brow furrowing. Bucky gave him a pensive look, sitting back on his haunches and motioning for Jamie to join him.

 

“You understand that those aren’t the only kinds of families, right?” Bucky tried to explain as Jamie folded his legs in front of him, their knees touching. “I mean, those things are important because you get a lot of who you are from your parents, I was a lot like my Dad and I was always proud of that because I was proud of him. It’s just not the only thing that makes people family.”

 

“I’m here because I have Steve’s genes,” Jamie said looking up at Bucky with a serious expression. “the researchers said that humans have an instinct to protect their genes.” Bucky stared back at him for a long moment. He went to rub his face, forgetting he was wearing boxing gloves and earning a stifled chuckle from the boy. His eyes narrowed in mock irritation and he bopped Jamie on the head playfully.

 

“How do I explain this so it makes sense to you?” he sighed, turning serious. He thought a moment, his brow furrowing. “You know how you get up in the morning and before you’ve even had breakfast, Clint’s crawled out of bed with his hair all sticking up and he gets out a fork and he eats pancakes off your plate?” Jamie bit his lip, his eyes sparkling as he nodded.

 

“Why do you think he does that?” Bucky asked. Jamie’s brow furrowed in thought, turning over the possibilities.

 

“I… I don’t know,” he answered finally.

 

“Because Clint _hates_ mornings,” Bucky added in explanation. “Really hates them. He’d sleep till noon if Natasha and Tony didn’t mock him. But you get up pretty early, and unless he’s been working the night before he’s there in the morning before you finish your juice.” Jamie’s face crinkled up in confusion and Bucky smiled.

 

“The way Clint feels about you, the way you feel about him,” Bucky related gently. “That doesn’t have anything to do with genetics or instincts. When you feel that way about people, we call it love, loyalty.” 

 

“They said it was weak,” Jamie whispered as if afraid.

 

“They lied,” Bucky insisted gently. “It can make you vulnerable, yeah, but it can make you so strong too, strong enough to do things you never thought you could. That’s what family is, Jamie, it’s not about instincts and science. It’s about the stuff inside you. Families look out for each other because they care about each other, because they need each other, because they want to be together. Clint loves you, we all do.”

 

“Because of Steve?” Jamie asked in confusion struggling to understand. “Because I’m like him?” Bucky held out his gloves, palm up. Jamie reached out cautiously, resting his gloves against Bucky’s.

 

“Because of you,” Bucky said softly. “And yeah, you’re a lot like him. The things I admire most about Steve, I see in you too. You’re brave and smart and kind. And I know that’s what you see in him, those things that you want to be. But we love you because you’re wonderful all on your own, just you.” Jamie’s cheeks colored and Bucky leaned forward, kissing his forehead.

 

“Jamie we took you from that lab because it was the right thing to do,” Bucky declared. “I want you to understand that. None of us would have left you there, no matter who’s genes you had. Hydra took my family from me, they took my memories, made me forget the people I love. They tried to make me kill Steve. They tried to tell me the same things they told you. That it was weakness. They didn’t have any right to do that to either of us. Steve did not leave me with them, he fought to get me out. And I would never leave anyone to them, none of us would. Sometimes the strongest families grow out of the worst things. What happened to you, what happened to me, that was awful. But it’s one of the things that makes you and me family.” Jamie’s lip trembled and Bucky reached out, pulling the boy into his arms.

 

“I don’t know what to do here,” Jamie snuffled into Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“I know, buddy,” Bucky nodded, his eyes misting. “It’s going to take time, but you’re going to get the hang of all this. I know it’s hard, damn do I know it, but you’re going to make it, you’re going to look back on this and as scared as you are right now, that’s how proud you’re going to be.”

 

“You sure?” Jamie squeaked out.

 

“Absolutely,” Bucky stated with conviction. “No matter what happens, you’re family now. I promise, I’m always going to be looking out for you.” Jamie’s arms tightened around his neck and Bucky kissed his cheek.

 

“Come on, lets give this another go,” Bucky suggested, shifting onto his knees as he set Jamie on the floor. “better that you’re doing this than letting Clint get you into trouble.” Jamie blushed, a smile tugging at his lips as he dried his eyes on the sleeve of his henley.

 

“Yeah, yeah, we all know he’s your favorite,” Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning back. “Gloves up, punk, come on, show me what you’ve got.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You ready?” Betty asked, leaning in at the doorway of he lab.

 

“Yeah, just a sec,” Jane mumbled, her attention focused on her laptop. Betty shot a look at Darcy who was sitting at one of the lab benches, Jamie beside her, engrossed with his STARKpad.

 

“Jane?” Darcy prompted.

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“Jane!” Darcy made a face as Jamie looked up at her with a curious expression. Darcy reached around him, grabbing a couple of M&M’s from the bag in front of him. She bit her lip, narrowing her eyes as she aimed and she let the candy fly, hitting Jane in the middle of the forehead.

 

“Darcy!” Jane protested.

 

“Thanks for showing up, Lucy!” Darcy countered as Jamie giggled, hiding behind his tablet. “Ethel’s here.”

 

“I want to be Lucy,” Betty pouted, leaning against the doorframe as Darcy popped the remaining M&M’s in her mouth.

 

“Where did you even learn to do that?” Jane demanded, affronted.

 

“Clint,” Darcy and Jamie announced in unison. They grinned at each other and Darcy held up her hand for a high five.

 

“We’re supposed to leave in half an hour, you know,” Betty interrupted, looking three parts amused to one part annoyed.

 

“Sorry,” Jane sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I think I’m onto something.”

 

“Girlfriend, you’re always onto something,” Betty pointed out. “You need to learn this little thing we biologists call ‘waiting for results’.”

 

“That’s when you drink coffee until everything goes wrong,” Jamie stated, looking up at her.

 

“Okay, maybe you’re spending too much time with Bruce and Tony,” Betty admitted, running her fingers through his hair as Jane hid a laugh.

 

“I’m packed,” Jane sighed. “Let me get my laptop and we can go.”

 

“What’s this?” Betty asked curiously, leaning over Jamie’s shoulder to study the STARKpad he was working on.

 

“Sproket,” Darcy replied, glancing at the screen. “Haven’t you seen this?” Betty shook her head.

 

“It’s the latest in educational software from SI,” Jane replied, stuffing items in her laptop bag. “It’s an entire design and development platform for video games and interactive software. Teaches kids how to program.”

 

“He’s badass,” Darcy declared with a grin. “You should see the mad Chinese checkers thing he made with animals the other day. Crazy.”

 

“That’s kind of impressive,” Betty nodded. “Working on a new game?” Jamie nodded.

 

“Okay, little dude,” Darcy stated. “We’re out of here for the weekend. Do you want to go with Bruce or do you want me to go find Clint before we leave?”

 

“Could,” Jamie hesitated a moment, glancing out the window to where Bruce was working across the hall before turning to Jane. “Could I stay here and use your computer while you’re gone?”

 

“My computer?” Jane asked, her brow furrowing.

 

“I… want to see what the game looks like on a big screen,” he said, his cheeks coloring.

 

“He’s been working at it hard all afternoon,” Darcy supplied. “It’s probably pretty awesome. And it’s not like he can borrow off of Tony or Bruce.”

 

“We’re going to have to get him his own lab soon,” Betty laughed.

 

“As long as it’s okay with Bruce, I don’t mind,” Jane shrugged. “I’m not running anything this weekend.”

 

“I’ll go ask,” Darcy nodded, hopping off her stool and crossing the hall.

 

“JARVIS, can you install the Sproket environment on my computer and give Jamie access?” Jane requested. 

 

“Right away ma’am,” the AI replied

 

“Bruce says it’s fine as long as you stay near the computer console where he can see you,” Darcy informed, brushing a kiss on the top of Jamie’s head.

 

“It’s probably good for him if we give him a little space now and then anyway,” Betty remarked.

 

“Okay, buddy,” Jane announced, shouldering her bag. “Betty and Darcy and I are going to be away for a few days but we’ll be back on Monday, we’ll see you then, all right?” Jamie nodded and she kissed his forehead.

 

“Keep an eye on everyone for me,” Darcy grinned, giving him a squeeze, he nodded again as Betty patted his back affectionately and he watched a moment as the girls headed out into the corridor toward the elevator, chatting excitedly about the conference.

 

He glanced over at Bruce’s lab, the scientist had moved around to the other side of the bench so that he was facing the window, looking up on occasion to make sure Jamie was still there. Jamie clambered into the lab stool on the other side of the bench from where Darcy had been sitting and pulled the keyboard in front of him, looking up at the screen. 

 

He glanced back over at Bruce as he picked up his STARKpad, biting his lip as he made just a few more swipes and then resolutely pressed ‘Build’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You wanted something, Tony?” Steve asked, looking cautious as he hovered in the doorway of the lab. “Did you find something with the security?” Bruce and Tony looked up from where they’d been speaking in low tones and Bruce seemed to cringe slightly. 

 

“We got the results back from the specialist,” Tony stated flatly. Steve froze, his muscles going rigid as he stood unmoving in the doorway.

 

“Steve?” Bruce prompted cautiously. Steve gave himself a small shake, crossing the lab with stilted steps and sinking onto one of the lab stools.

 

“What did they say?” He asked, his expression blank. Bruce and Tony exchanged a worried look and Bruce pulled up another stool, sitting across from Steve.

 

“The specialist we spoke with ran the tests twice just to be sure,” Bruce said gently, he paused, rubbing his hands over his knees. “Jamie has a genetic disorder called Cystic Fibrosis.” Steve tensed, his fingers slowly curling into fists where they rested on his thighs.

 

“Genetic from,” he swallowed, drawing in a shaking breath. “A genetic error from the cloning process?”

 

“Not directly, no,” Bruce shook his head. “I did a comparison to your DNA. Steve, as far as I can tell with your modified gene structure, I’m going to have to say that you probably had the same disorder before the serum.”

 

“I don’t understand, if it’s genetic then,” Steve paused, giving Bruce a helpless look. “I thought the serum corrected my genetic problems.”

 

“It did,” Bruce nodded. “But for reasons we can’t really understand, at some point in the cloning process the serum completely broke down and the stem cells reverted to their natural state. Maybe it was their storage methods, or the way they obtained the cells, or their cloning process itself but for whatever reason the serum just stopped working. As far as I can tell, he’s exactly the same as you were at age six.”

 

“I’m trying to decide if this is all a good thing or a bad thing,” Steve admitted softly, his breathing uneven.

 

“It’s good that we know what we’re up against,” Tony pointed out. “and it’s good that we have access to the top minds in this field. All that can make a hell of a difference.” Steve nodded, looking just a bit shaky.

 

“Cystic Fibrosis, tends to cause stunted growth and poor immunity,” Bruce explained. “Among other things. I think it’s safe to say the other clones probably had it as well, which would probably be why the mortality rate was so high.”

 

“You said you were small and sickly as a kid, now we know why,” Tony observed. Bruce threw him a disapproving look.

 

“I think what Tony’s trying to say is that you survived,” Bruce amended. “There’s no reason for us to panic. Jamie’s issues are exactly the same ones you faced. With the resources we have available we have options you didn’t have in the forties.”

 

“Is it curable?” Steve asked softly. “I, I had it rough. I don’t want that to be his life.”

 

“We’re still in the process of researching the disease,” Bruce began hesitantly, wincing as Steve’s face fell. “There is a silver lining here; Jamie shows absolutely no signs of heart disease and no other genetic anomalies or illnesses apart from the asthma. I think it’s pretty safe to conclude that your heart problems were contracted. As long as we’re diligent in his care there’s no reason for him to ever develop a heart condition.” Steve nodded slowly in understanding with an expression that said he would take his good news where he could get it.

 

“So we should probably talk about options,” Tony stated, pushing himself up onto one of the lab benches, his feet dangling over the floor. Steve nodded, looking at them both with a lost expression.

 

“What you have to understand from the offset is that virtually anything we decide to do would be considered experimental.” Bruce admitted, turning back to Steve who winced. “The only approved drug treatment course for Cystic Fibrosis isn’t recommended for his particular mutation. We could try it, but it’s unlikely to help him.”

 

“Are their drug trials or programs or something?” Stark prompted hopefully. “Because I can get him in, I guarantee that.”

 

“There aren’t many,” Bruce admitted grudgingly. “Most of the focus has been on treating the symptoms with nutritional supplements to improve nutrient absorption and antibiotics to treat the inevitable infections.”

 

“Well that’s lazy,” Tony huffed.

 

“With less than thirty thousand cases in the US it’s just not a priority,” Bruce shook his head. “There are several different mutations and they all have to be treated differently because they all exhibit different sets of symptoms. It’s complicated.”

 

“Too difficult to even put together a test group for patient trials,” Tony nodded, frowning. Bruce nodded in confirmation.

 

“There’s one bit of good news,” Bruce observed. “According to the specialist his appears to be a milder case.”

 

“That kind of makes me concerned about the kids who aren’t considered mild,” Steve admitted, staring at the floor.

 

“You’re very lucky,” Bruce agreed, nodding. “Steve?” Steve looked up at him with a raw, pained expression to find Bruce smiling back at him gently.

 

“Fifty years ago most children with this disorder didn’t survive into their twenties.” Bruce stated softly. “The fact that you did, with hardly any medical intervention I might add, implies that there’s a very, very good chance he will be fine, We have excellent antibiotics and vaccines at our disposal. We can at least treat the symptoms.”

 

“He’d be sick a lot though,” Steve observed. Bruce nodded in confirmation and Steve rubbed his face with his hands.

 

“I’m hoping you’ve come up with an alternative,” Tony stated. Bruce drew in a deep breath, steeling himself.

 

“I want to run something by you,” Bruce stated cautiously. “And I don’t want you to have a knee jerk reaction.”

 

“I don’t…” Steve bit back his reply as Bruce shot him a rather paternal glare. “Yeah, oaky.” he nodded looking cowed.

 

“It’s not an approved treatment by a long shot,” Bruce explained. “The limited number of attempts have had mixed results, and none of them have used the approach I’m suggesting. But I have reason to believe that in this particular case it has a spectacular chance of success.” Steve let out a shaky breath, nodding that he was listening.

 

“We could perform gene therapy through a bone marrow transplant,” Bruce stated. Steve stared at him for a long moment his eyes suddenly growing wide in comprehension.

 

“And he freaks out,” Tony observed, drawing out the ‘and’.

 

“No, absolutely not!” Steve bolted to his feet, shaking his head.

 

“Your bone marrow is a one hundred percent match,” Bruce pointed out. “All of the necessary genetic corrections have already been made by the serum. It’s a unique opportunity with a excellent chance of success.”

 

“No,” Steve scowled.

 

“It wouldn’t turn him into a super-soldier,” Bruce insisted. “He’d need the radiation therapy to completely activate the serum and increase his muscle mass and bone density, he’d just obtain the benefits of the corrected genes.” Steve drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding and his shoulders drawing back as if to let out a yell but he startled, his breath coming out in short bursts. Without a word he wheeled on his foot, stalking toward the door.

 

“Steve,” Tony admonished but Steve didn’t turn. His arm swung out and he grasped hold of the edge of one of the work benches, overturning the mass of steel littered with tools and parts of the Iron Man suit, sending it careening across the floor with a deafening crash. The door retracted before he could reach it, JARVIS clearly thinking to aid his retreat before he could damage the electronic keypad.

 

“That went well,” Bruce observed mildly, watching as Steve stormed down the hall. He reached the last window and his hand shot out again, a spider web of cracks blooming under his fist in the bulletproof safety glass before he disappeared.

 

“Shit,” Tony whined. “I just replaced that.”

 

“You’re running a test on the new call systems for the suit later,” Bruce rolled his eyes, collecting his STARKpad. “You would have had to replace it again anyway.”

 

“Yeah but,” Tony’s protest died as Bruce shot him a withering look. Tony’s shoulders slumped and he pushed himself off the bench, picking up a screwdriver and tinkering with a repulser as Butterfingers and Dum-E scurried around, picking up the litter of tools and technology left in the wake of Captain America.

 

“What’s going on with him?” Bruce asked cautiously, keeping his attention fixed on the monitor in front of him.

 

“How the hell would I know?” Tony demanded in exasperation, chucking the screwdriver at the tool rack angrily and staring at the repulser with venom in his gaze.

 

“Because people tell you things when they don’t mean to,” Bruce supplied, matter-of-fact.

 

“They do?” Tony asked, confused, turing to him with his brow furrowed.

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s not just you?” He questioned. Bruce shook his head slowly. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?”

 

“Because you’re already insufferable and we don’t want to make it worse,” Bruce countered. He paused for a long moment.

 

“You didn’t mean to tell me that,” Tony observed with an evil grin. Bruce just sighed, returning his attention to his work.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve stepped out of the elevator and into the sheltered entrance of the roof deck, the glass doors opening almost instantly in front of him. He’d come up here to think, to get away, to escape the bustle and noise and general chaos that was the Avengers. As dulcet tones of Santo & Johnny’s _Sleepwalk_ drifted through the open door he thought he really should have known better.

 

He stopped just inside the door, thinking over his options. At least one of the seventy-five floors of the building had to be unoccupied. 

 

“Look at you cut a rug!” Clint’s laugh was answered by another, higher delighted giggle and the tension slipped from Steve’s shoulders just a fraction. Without conscious thought he stepped through the door, peering around the landscape planter toward the upper deck.

 

Clint was sprawled out on the retaining wall near the steps, his head pillowed on his arm as he watched Natasha, her hands holding Jamie’s lightly as they danced around the deck. She smiled brightly as she spun him in a pirouette and the boy giggled, bouncing up and down on his toes as she reeled him back in.

 

“You’re getting the hang of it,” She encouraged. “Now you just need to get tall enough to lead.”

 

“That’ll be a while,” Clint observed, grinning. “I vote we just keep him an adorable kid forever.”

 

“Like you?” Natasha teased. Clint stuck his tongue out at her. He rolled to his feet, closing the distance in three strides and scooping Jamie up in his arms and swinging him until he squealed. 

 

“You dizzy?” Clint asked, dangling him upside down. Jamie shook his head. “ear thing must be doing better.” He turned Jamie around, plunking him on his feet.

 

“I’m cutting in for a minute buddy,” he declared, ruffling Jamie’s hair before pulling Natasha into his arms. Jamie bounced on his feet, throwing his arms wide and turning in a circle, not quite fast enough to be a spin. He dropped his arms, half running, half skipping across the deck to lean on the wall.

 

The wind tousled his blond locks as he peered down at New York washed in the red-orange light of sunset, the last rays of sun glinting off the glass of skyscrapers to halo his hair. His pale cheeks were flushed pink and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back so the wind and the warmth could wash over him while Natasha and Clint slow danced a few yards away.

 

“He’s so beautiful,” Clint remarked, the wind carrying his words away from the boy and toward Steve who shifted a fraction behind the hedging. 

 

“He is,” Natasha agreed, her fingers running through his hair in a familiar comforting gesture. “He’s going to be fine Clint, stop worrying.” He nodded, giving her a hug before releasing her and crossing the deck to swing Jamie onto his hip.

 

“It’s all red and blue and green,” Jamie declared breathlessly, pointing out toward Long Island.

 

“We need to get you some paints,” Clint chuckled. “And maybe an art class. Do you think they make art tutors?”

 

“I think Tony will invent just about anything he wants,” Natasha replied watching them both with a fond smile. 

 

“Maybe you’ll be an artist when you grow up,” Clint suggested. “Would you like that?” Jamie nodded his attention never straying from the glowing sunset over the skyline.

 

“Two minutes ago he wasn’t allowed to grow up,” Natasha mocked, knocking his knee out from under him with her toe. Clint gave her a scowl as Jamie laughed, wrapping both small arms around Clint’s neck.

 

Steve turned, slipping back through the doors, pressing the call button for the elevator that opened almost immediately. He heaved a sigh as he boarded the lift, shutting his eyes and slumping against the wall as the doors closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through a cornucopia of genetic disorders before I settled on Cystic Fibrosis. The terrible reality is that there are literally hundreds of illnesses like it that affect the lives of millions of people. Each one of them is different and each affects only a small segment of the overall population making drug trials a near impossibility. 
> 
> The best hope for most of these disorders is that we one day advance medicine enough to engage in wide scale genetic modification, something that we've only tried on the very basic level with humans despite the fact that most of us in the US eat genetically modified grains and produce every single day. Funding is a factor, but so is a lack of qualified researchers to tackle the hard work of developing gene therapy for use in humans which is far more problematic than it's use in plants. It's something to think about for those of you considering your major.
> 
> Sproket doesn't exist. Which, if you ask me, is a darn shame. What does exist is a similar project from MIT called Scratch. http://scratch.mit.edu  
> It's not as robust as my fictional SI creation, but it does teach programing in a simple easy to grasp way. If you (or more importantly, your young children) are interested in software development, this is a great place to get your feet wet. It's free to use.


	17. How I wonder what you are?

_Brooklyn: 1925_

 

Sara Rogers climbed the rickety stairs to the second story flat, brushing the blond locks that had fallen out of her bun back from her eyes. She pulled her thin sweater around her shoulders against the sharp wind, keeping one eye on her surroundings and another on the creaking steps. The sun was only barely up and the neighborhood was just beginning to stir. Down the street she could hear the shrill calls of a newsy barking out the headlines and the rattle of the milk man’s truck. She fished the key on it’s string around her neck out of her blouse. She hadn’t carried a hand bag in what seemed like ages. It wasn’t safe for a woman alone at this hour, nothing but an invitation to trouble. She sighed, rubbing her sore neck, biting her lip and reminding herself that everything was fine. She’d have heard if it wasn’t, she knew she would have. Still it did little to ease the worry as she fitted the key in the lock.

 

She opened the battered door to the tiny flat and stopped short on the threshold. It was a bare ten feet from the door to the shamble-down combination stove that was throwing off a warm glow. In front of the stove, standing on one of her mother’s wooden chairs was a boy of about seven with unruly brown hair, a frying pan in one hand and her one good spatula in the other, blinking at her with wide eyes. Next to him, holding a slice of day old bread in each hand was her Steven.

 

“We used up the old eggs,” Steven declared, still frozen in place, his blond locks sticking up at odd angles that made him look particularly adorable.

 

“Yes, I can see that,” Sara answered, hiding her smile as she shut the door. “Steven what did I say about the stove?”

 

“Oh, I stoked it Mrs. Rogers,” the undersized chef stated, his ears turning pink. He gave her a chagrinned look before adding. “Ma’am. Ma has me do it for her all the time. Stevie was hungry.”

 

“I’m sure he was,” Sara nodded in resignation. “Thank you, James.” the boy gave her a beaming smile, depositing an egg on one slice of bread and waiting for Steven to set the sandwich aside and pull two more slices of bread from the breadbox. Sara crossed the kitchen, her hand settling on Steven’s forehead.

 

“How are you feeling, darling?” She asked, running her fingers through his hair. “You’re still warm.”

 

“Better,” Steven announced, “do you want one?” She looked down into his gentle, upturned face as he held out an egg sandwich. 

 

“Aren’t you just the most beautiful site in the world to come home to?” she sighed, bending down to kiss his forehead as he blushed scarlet. 

 

“James, don’t laugh,” she warned as an afterthought. “I’m sure your mother thinks the same thing.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded,  taking a bite of his own sandwich to stifle his giggle.

 

“Can Bucky and I go out after breakfast?” Steven pleaded, looking up at her with large eyes.

 

“Baby, you’re still running a fever,” she reminded. “And it’s cold out. I’m going to get some sleep and if you’re still feeling better after lunch you can go out then if it’s warmed up.” Steven’s face fell in a way that made her heart clench.

 

“I got a checkerboard for my birthday,” James announced, still standing on the chair, swallowing down his bite of sandwich. “my sisters are awful, though, you want to play, Stevie?” 

 

“Oh…okay,” Steven beamed up at his friend and Bucky hopped off the chair, cramming down his last bits of breakfast. “I left a sandwich for you Mrs. Rogers. I’ll be right back.” He flashed Steven a grin, flinging the door open and pounding down the stairs and across the alley yard toward his own home.

 

“Thank you, James!” she called as the door banged shut after him. She turned to look at her son, too pale and too frail and already almost a head shorter than his best friend. Steven held out her sandwich and she took it with a smile as she sank into the chair before the stove with a sigh, warming her tired feet against the boiler.

 

“I’m so lucky to have you looking after me,” she said. Steven’s cheeks turned pink and she laughed, stroking his face. She watched him as they ate in silence, the stove warming her though. James had probably used more coal than he should have. It couldn’t be helped now, she’d have to heat the house a bit later tonight.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, running her fingers through Steven’s hair again.

 

“For what?” he asked looking up at her with bewildered eyes.

 

“That things have to be so hard,” she admitted, caressing his cheek. “Steven, I want you to remember something for me. Can you do that?” her son nodded slowly, his bright blue eyes meeting hers.

 

“You have so much strength inside,” She insisted. “That’s what’s most important, not what you can do with your fists, but what you choose to do with your hands. You always choose to do the right thing and I love that about you. I wouldn’t change you for the world. Always be who you are right now and I’ll always be proud of you.” He nodded slowly and she wrapped her arms around him.

 

“I’m so grateful that I have you,” she admitted, brushing a kiss on his hair.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Manhattan_ _: 89 years later_

 

 

The Jackson Pollock had disappeared from the kitchen. Steve already missed it, but even he had to admit that the rows of museum cable mounted to the wall with steel brackets had a certain industrial chic that juxtaposed nicely to the crayon drawings suspended on them from tiny jaw-clips. The thumbtacks hadn’t even lasted an hour.

 

Leave it to Pepper Pots to make a child’s therapy art look like this month’s featured exhibit at MoMA.

 

“Which one’s your favorite?” Clint asked, sitting on the floor beside Jamie who’d been staring up at his drawings, still and silent, for the last ten minutes. Steve hung back at the furthest end of the kitchen, nursing his coffee as Jamie pointed out a drawing in the second row of what was most probably New York at sunrise.

 

“Oh I like that one,” Clint nodded in agreement, leaning into Jamie’s shoulder just a little. Without conscious thought the boy raised his arm, petting Clint’s hair with one small hand. Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing. “What do you like most about it?” Jamie shrugged but didn’t answer.

 

“Why don’t you guys go down to the tree fort for a while?” Steve suggested, frowning as Jamie shook his head, continuing to stare at his drawings. Jamie’s spells of silence seemed more pronounced today. Sam had chalked it up to his uncertainty about how to communicate and said not to push, but there was something not quite right. Maybe it was the set of his shoulders or the way he seemed to shift with nervous energy rather than looking for some way to burn it off. Steve set his coffee cup on the counter, crossing the kitchen to crouch down on Jamie’s other side. The boy turned to look at him with a pained expression and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, burrowing into his chest.

 

“Hey you alright?” Steve asked softly, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “Are you feeling sick?” Jamie didn’t answer. 

 

“JARVIS?” he queried as Clint frowned.

 

“His body temperature is point two degrees above baseline,” the AI reported. “However my scans indicate he may be suffering from an upset stomach.”

 

“You can tell us these things, you know,” Steve admonished gently, rolling to his feet and settling the child on his hip. “We want you to say something.”

 

“Hey, Jamie?” Clint stood, giving the boy’s sleeve a gentle tug. “did they get mad at you when you got sick?” Jamie hesitated a moment before giving a tiny nod.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Steve explained, rubbing the boy’s arm. “We’re not going to be upset with you because you’re not feeling well. I want you to tell me so we can take care of you.”

 

“I’ll get him some ginger ale,” Clint offered, heading for the fridge. “that usually works for me.” Steve let out a chuckle.

 

“Bucky used to collect pennies off the sidewalk and buy me ginger beer when I was sick,” Steve said with a nostalgic smile.

 

“Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it,” Clint observed, popping a can open and fishing a rainbow straw out of one of the drawers. “Little sips, see if you feel better.” Jamie took the can from him and Steve set the boy on the counter, moving to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher.

 

“So… um…” Clint waffled a moment, looking uncomfortable. “Tony and I were talking this morning and he told me about the… procedure.”

 

“Clint I really don’t want to talk about this right now,” Steve confessed with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

 

“Okay,” Clint allowed. “but we… the team, we’re going to want to talk about it. You know that, right? I think maybe you’re not being… objective.”

 

“No, I’m not being objective,” Steve replied, shutting the dishwasher and leaning against the sink on the palms of his hands. “I can’t be objective because unlike the rest of you I can’t detach myself from the situation.”

 

“Detached?” Clint asked in surprise. “You think we’re _detached_? What, like we don’t care?”

 

“Forget it,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Just, it’s not important.”

 

“Steve, man, what is going on?” Clint asked softly, his brow furrowed in concern.

 

“Nothing,” Steve shook his head again. “It’s just… stress. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said that. I know how you feel about…” his voice trailed off as he looked at Jamie. The boy was still sitting on the edge of the counter but he was staring at his soda can with wet eyes.

 

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, Clint all but forgotten beside him. Jamie shook his head, hastily drying his eyes on his arm. Steve closed the distance between them with careful steps, leaning on the counter with a hand on either side of Jamie so that he was looking up into the boy’s face.

 

“It’s okay, I promise it’s okay, you can tell me,” he coaxed softly.

 

“Can we take the drawings down?” Jamie warbled. Steve gaped at him a moment, completely stunned.

 

“You did such a good job, why do you want to take them down?” Steve questioned.

 

“Operatives don’t… draw,” Jamie hiccuped, his face contorted in confusion.

 

“Baby, that’s not what you are,” Steve replied but Jamie shook his head.

 

“I’m a template for a super soldier,” the boy insisted, his voice cracking. 

 

“Jamie, no,” Steve declared, cupping Jamie’s face in both hands. He glanced at Clint to find him staring at the child with a truly horrified expression. “you’re a kid, just like thousands of other kids in the world and they draw and play and.”

 

“I’m not,” Jamie interrupted. “I’m different.” Steve stared at him, only barely aware of Clint fleeing into the hall as if to escape. 

 

“Jamie, I’m sorry,” Steve admitted, taking the soda can from him and setting it aside before taking the boy’s hands in his. “I probably should have talked to you about this before. I just didn’t know if you’d understand. Bruce says you know a little bit about genetics. You know how kids are born and they have genes from both their parents?” Jamie nodded.

 

“Well you just got all your genes from one person instead of two,” He continued. “It makes you a little bit different, but it still makes you human just like everyone else. You’re not a thing. You’re not a weapon, you’re a little boy and you deserve to have things little boys have like crayons and toys and trips to the park and juice boxes and a lot of really wonderful things. I need you to understand that, no matter what they told you, you are a real person and you have a real life all your own. It doesn’t matter where you came from.”

 

“From you,” Jamie said softly.

 

“From me,” Steve acknowledged, turning Jamie’s hand so that they were palm to palm, the shape of their fingers identical despite the size disparity. “But you’re not me, you’re you. You get to make your own choices.” Jamie stared at their hands, his brow knitting.

 

“Steve?” he looked up with a forlorn expression. “Are you…”

 

The assemble alarm went off and Steve bit back a swear, scooping Jamie up and hurrying out into the rec room. He darted after Clint and Natasha who were already half way to the living room, taking the stairs two at a time, half skidding down the hall.

 

He caught up with them as the elevator doors opened and Bruce and Phil joined them just as Sam and Thor clattered up from the back hallway at a dead run and Tony shambled down the stairs from the upper floors looking half asleep. 

 

“What is it, Maria?” Steve asked as the TV flickered to life, revealing deputy director Hill.

 

“In the category of things that make no sense,” Maria replied shrugging in exasperation as her image shrank and the screen was filled with scenes of a city street where a giant mechanical spider was tearing apart cars. “This is live from Philadelphia.”

 

“Great,” Clint snorted, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Because West Philly wasn’t scary enough already!”

 

“Syndrome,” Jamie blinked in awe, pointing at the screen. Natasha covered her mouth with her hand and Thor bit his lip to keep from laughing outright.

 

“Who the hell let him watch Incredibles?” Tony demanded as Steve cringed, covering Jamie’s hand and shushing him softly.

 

“Darcy,” the others answered in unison. Tony threw his hands in the air with a huff.

 

“National guard can’t put a dent in it,” Hill continued, having the good grace to pretend she hadn’t noticed.

 

“We’re on our way,” Steve nodded. “Avengers, assemble.” He did a funny sort of start-stop toward the elevator, looking at Jamie with a stunned expression as if he’d forgotten he was still holding the child.

 

“I’ll coordinate from here,” Phil announced, plucking the boy from his arms as Tony shuffled around them, heading for the launch balcony and the others scrambled to suit up.

 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked cringing.

 

“No time for debate,” Phil insisted, waving him off.

 

“Steve?” Jamie gave him a distressed look.

 

“Jamie, stay here with Phil,” Steve ordered, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. 

 

“Steve?”

 

“Stay with Phil,” Steve repeated. 

 

“We’ll be fine,” Phil assured, shifting the child in his arms as Steve took off at a run. He turned to Hill as the Avengers disappeared from the room. “Put me in touch with ground troops, we’ll evacuate and try to get a perimeter in place.”

 

“I have backup inbound,” They’re at least a half hour out though,” Maria informed.

 

“Stay right there,” Phil ordered gently, setting Jamie on the sofa and moving toward the holoscreens that flickered to life on the far side of the room near the bar. “JARVIS, I need a map with an overlay of the robot’s path.”

 

“ETA fifteen minutes,” Iron Man announced.

 

“We’re right behind you,” Steve declared, sounding out of breath amid the roar of the quinjet’s engines. “See if you can slow it down but don’t get in too close without backup.”

 

Jamie clambered to the end of the sofa, picking up the STARKpad lying there and tucking himself into the corner as Phil glanced over his shoulder at him, giving him a reassuring smile. The boy pulled his knees up, bracing the tablet against them.

 

“JARVIS, do what you can to limit what he sees and hears, would you?” Phil requested, keeping his voice low.

 

“I’ll do my best, Agent Coulson,” the AI assured. 

 

“Hell of a time for our support team to be gone,” he sighed, returning his attention to the screens.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you know who invents crazy giant metal spiders?” Clint demanded.

 

“I’m going to assume you have a theory,” Natasha observed drily.

 

“Crazy people,” He declared, letting an arrow fly. The acid tip caught perfectly in one of the spider’s knee joints but as far as Clint could tell the acid itself was dripping harmlessly down the spider’s leg. “Seriously, what the hell is this?”

 

“A fifty foot metal spider,” Bucky quipped.

 

“I believe it is closer to sixty,” Thor remarked seriously.

 

“Would someone get Hulk off that thing’s back before he breaks his neck?” Steve pleaded.

 

“Aw come on,” Tony snarked, darting between the spider’s legs in an attempt to shoot at its underbelly. “He’s having fun, it’s like one of those mechanical bulls at the cowboy bars.”

 

“Where are we supposed to get a stetson in his size?,” Sam asked drolly, taking shots along the spider’s side to distract it as it threw Hulk from it’s back.

 

“I think we’re making a dent in the rear right leg,” Bucky advised, dropping out of a second story window and rolling beneath the spider’s belly, shooting at one of the rear leg joints.

 

“Everyone, concentrate your fire there,” Steve ordered. 

 

“It's going to be a long day if we have to slow this thing down one leg at a time,” Natasha observed.

 

“We need to take out whoever's controlling this thing,” Steve agreed. “Phil?”

 

“I’m on it,” Phil answered. “I’m trying to triangulate from the control signal.” He was so engrossed he never noticed the sofa was empty.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jamie skittered down the steps of the back staircase that led from the gym down to the R&D levels of the tower. He came around the corner, half swinging on the hand rail and landed in front of the glass doors. He stared at them for only a moment before reaching up and placing his small hand on the panel by the door.

 

_Capt. Rogers, Stephen G._

_Please enter your access code now._

 

Jamie stretched to read the small screen, licking his lips nervously as he extended one finger, carefully pecking out the number sequence. The door hissed and he grabbed the handle, struggling to heave it open, his blue sneakers losing traction on the slick tile. He scooted through the opening, darting down to the rack on the wall where the fire extinguisher was, grasping hold of the fire hose and dragging it back to the door. He threaded the nozzle through the handles and tied the hose in a knot before setting off at a run again. He came to the end of the side corridor and skidded to a stop in front of the elevator, prying open the call box to reveal a control panel.

 

_Lockdown mode activated: Floor 67._

 

He fell against the elevator doors, gulping in deep breaths for a moment, his hands shaking. As soon as his breathing steadied out he pushed away from the door, trotting down the end of the corridor to the fire exit stairwell. He reached up, careful to press down the door latch and not the fire alarm latch, shoving his shoulder into the heavy steel door

 

“You’re late,” the blond man dressed in a black tack suit scowled, an annoyed expression on his face. 

 

“Had to wait till no one was looking,” Jamie answered breathlessly, taking in the half dozen operatives behind him, all of them with hand guns drawn, their attention on the stairwell. 

 

“Well lets get the data and we’ll get out of here,” their commander ordered with a frown. Jamie nodded, swallowing.

 

“This way,” he indicated, turning back down the corridor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I think I have a fix," Phil declared. “Three miles south west of your position.”

 

“Sam, Buck,” Steve prompted.

 

“We’re on it, Cap,” Sam confirmed, heading off toward the south west, Bucky breaking off and pursuing him though the battered city streets.

 

“Try to keep this thing contained,” Steve sighed.

 

“Sir?” JARVIS’ query was tinged with the slightest hint of distress as Tony barrel rolled out of the way of one of the spider’s legs.

 

“Little busy Jay,” he answered, letting off a volley of repulser blasts at the thing’s sensor array. 

 

“Sir, this can’t wait,” JARVIS insisted. “Someone’s triggered the security bulkheads on sixty-seven,”

 

“What?” Tony’s eyes widened in panic and he darted up into the air, stopping only when he was high enough to be well out of reach, switching to a private channel. “Cap! I think we have a problem at home!”

 

“What is it?” Steve’s worried voice replied. 

 

“The emergency stairwell door on sixty-six has been opened,” JARVIS added, his tone becoming increasingly alarmed.

 

“Shit,” Tony hissed. “Shit, someone’s trying to break in.”

 

“Pick me up! We’re going back!” Steve ordered sharply as he switched to open coms. “Guys someone’s trying to break into the tower, Iron Man and I are going to intercept.”

 

“We’ve got this!” Clint insisted. “Go now.”

 

“We’ve got time, it’ll take them at least twenty minutes to hack through the secure doors,” Tony insisted.

 

“Sir, the biometric override has just been used on Doctor Foster’s lab door,” JARVIS reported franticly. 

 

“What the hell?” Tony demanded in horror.

 

“It’s Captain Rogers, sir,” The AI added.

 

“Jamie,” Steve choked out in breathless panic. “Phil where’s Jamie?!”

 

“Steve, he,” Phil’s normally calm voice held just a hint of terror in it. “I turned my back and…”

 

“Go,” Steve ordered, his mask of calm returning as he set off at a run, allowing Tony to only barely slow down before catching him around the chest and hauling him into the air. “go now, He’s on sixty-six. Widow, take point, Hawkeye, Thor, cover her. Get that thing shut down.”

 

“This was a diversion,” Natasha observed, her tone emotionless.

 

“Yeah,” Steve answered. “I know.”

 

“Let us worry about the giant spider,” Thor insisted. 

 

“Copy that,” Steve answered shakily. “good luck team.”

 

“He played us,” Tony ground out as they climbed, picking up speed in their headlong rush north. “he played us the whole time.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve shook his head, wincing as Philadelphia disappeared behind them, the wind searing his face. 

 

“How can you say that?” Tony demanded, sounding hurt.

 

“Because he’s a child,” Steve answered, his own voice pained. “He’s a six year old whose been tortured and he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“All right, fair enough,” Tony conceded.

 

“We need to get back there before he gets into the system,” Steve added.

 

“Sir, Doctor Foster’s main console has been shutdown and rerouted,” JARVIS reported.

 

“How the hell can he even do that?!?!?” Tony demanded, his anger bubbling to the surface once more. “He’d need a architecture in place.”

 

“It’s the Sproket environment, Sir,” JARVIS answered.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Tony breathed out. “he just hacked my system with a tinker toy.”

 

“Tony we have to get back there,” Steve pleaded. “Before he does something we can’t undo.”

 

“Hang on to your star spangled shorts, Capcicle,” Tony declared as the repulsers whined.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can access the mainframe from in here,” Jamie said, pressing his hand to the biometric reader. The door slid open and he trotted across Jane’s lab, clambering onto one of the stools in front of the keyboard and tapping out a few commands as the Hydra agents swept the room, their guns drawn.

 

“Jamie, what are you doing?” JARVIS voice sounded tinny and broken. “Jamie….stop…” The lights in the lab blinked off and then back on as the computer rebooted, showing the main directory of Tony’s file servers.

 

“Here, this is me,” Jamie stated, pointing to a folder labeled. “Mini-S” the commander, lowered his weapon, crossing the lab to lean over Jamie’s shoulder.

 

“My god, look at all of this,” he said breathlessly. “Repulser upgrades, armor modifications, helicarrier engine specs. Is this every project Stark is currently working on?” Jamie nodded, looking up at him cautiously.

 

“We need this,” the man insisted, pulling a thumb drive from his pocket and plugging it into the keyboard. “All of this, how long do we have?”

 

“Fifteen minutes?” Jamie bit his lip. “The only one here is their handler. He shouldn’t have noticed I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

 

“That should be enough time,” the man nodded. “Is the stairwell secure?” Jamie nodded. 

 

“Good job, agent,” He clapped Jamie roughly on the shoulder before turning to his men. “boys, fan out, watch our backs.” Jamie slipped off the stool, standing back to make way for the commander, his eye darting between him and the men in the hall. 

 

“Sir, it looks like Stark’s lab at the end of the hall,” one of the operatives reported, his eyes wide. The commander turned to Jamie who nodded in confirmation. He signaled the man to come watch the data transfer and grasped Jamie by the shoulder, herding him out into the hall.

 

“I don’t suppose you can get into Stark’s lab the same way?” he asked curiously.

 

“N…no sir,” Jamie murmured.

 

“Well lets give it a try anyway,” he said with an evil grin, eying the parts of the Iron Man armor through the bullet proof glass.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“None of the elevators will go any lower than sixty-seven,” Phil reported, frustration in his tone. “and it looks like there’s a literal wrench in the main stairwell door. I’m pretty sure he stole it from your tool box in the jet bay.”

 

“He’s probably blocked the other doors too,” Tony answered, his voice tight with frustration. 

 

“I can try to cut through the locks but,” Phil replied, his voice trailing off.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony sighed. “I need to stop making better bulletproof glass.”

 

“You do have kind of a personal problem,” Steve pointed out practically.

 

“You _broke_ my window,” Tony reminded. Steve ignored him.

 

“We’re almost there.” the Captain observed as they sped over Staten Island. “I’m guessing we can’t blast though the windows?”

 

“Depends,” Tony answered drily. “You want to risk deep frying everyone on sixty-six?” Steve cringed.

 

“JARVIS,” Steve asked presently. “How did he shut down the elevators?” 

 

“He activated the secure bulkheads on sixty-seven,” JARVIS replied. “They’re designed to lock down all access apart from the fire exit stairs. I’m afraid I showed him how to do it, Captain, in case his safety was ever compromised so that he would be able to lock himself in until help arrived.”

 

“What about the bulkheads below that?” Steve asked, his brow furrowing. “Are any of those active?

 

“No, Captain.”

 

“Tony?” Steve asked hopefully. Tony rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh.

 

“In through the front door it is,” he agreed in resignation.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why is this taking so damn long?” the Hydra commander demanded, his eyes narrowing at the screen in frustration as he eyed Jane’s terminal though the window, one of the Hydra operatives who shook his head.

 

“Maybe it’s just the volume of data,” another of the agents suggested with a shrug.

 

“No luck with Stark’s lab?” he asked, the grunt shook his head as they turned and walked down the hall to where Jamie was pecking out codes on the door to Tony’s lab. The commander gave a snort of ire.

 

“The floor seems secure,” a second operative reported.

 

“Double check everything,” The commander ordered, a third agent, jerking his head down the hall. “We’ll give it a couple more minutes and then leave. Is the stairwell going to be a secure exit?” Jamie looked up from the control panel.

 

“It should be,” Jamie nodded. “The doors are designed so that you can open them from the outside but not the inside, so you can only go down.”

 

“And if anyone came up that way they’d be walking right into our line of fire,” he nodded, considering. “There isn’t an override for the fire doors?”

 

“Stark and Ms. Potts can open them from inside the stairwell, but no one else,” Jamie replied. “Ms. Potts is at the factory in New Jersey.”

 

“And Stark’s busy playing exterminator,” The commander nodded, turning to one of the other agents. “I’m going to double check the stairwell, get ready to leave.”

 

“Ya done good kid,” one of the operatives declared smugly, thumping Jamie roughly on the shoulder as the Commander headed down the hall toward the fire stairwell.

 

“Do you hear that whining sound?” the second agent asked curiously.

 

“Yeah,” the first nodded, frowning as he looked down at Jamie. “any idea what that is?”

 

“I think it’s something downstairs.” Jamie answered, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “fabrication’s down there. I don’t know what he was working on today.”

 

“Fabrication, huh?” the second said. “I’ve never heard a 3-D printer sound like that.”

 

“It’s getting louder,” the first observed. He gave Jamie a scrutinizing look. “hey, kid.”

 

That was all he got out before the fire doors blew off, knocking the commander against one of the walls and clattering down the main corridor in a blast of repulser fire.

 

The Hydra agents let out a string of curses as the entire floor rattled from the concussive force and Jamie stumbled, his hand catching the emergency containment latch on the wall. Sirens went off in all the labs, their doors sealing shut behind explosive shields just as the agent who had been monitoring Jane’s computer reached the latch.

 

The two operatives at the end of the hall scrambled to get their feet under them, taking aim at the smoking stairwell doorway and firing blindly as Iron Man hovered out of the haze, Captain America stepping forward with his hand gun in one hand and his shield in the other.

 

“Who invited you losers?” Iron Man’s metallic voice demanded as Stark raised his hand. The repulser beam went off blowing the first operative off his feet and into the glass at the end of the hall as Steve charged forward, bristling with anger as his shield connected with the jaw of one of the agents. Jamie scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide as he skidded down the corridor, stopping a yard from where Tony’s armor clad feet hit the tile with a crunch.

 

“Get in the stairwell, now!” Steve ordered sharply, grasping Jamie’s arm and pulling him behind the shield amid the raze of bullets. “Stay down!” He was on his feet a moment later, his fist connecting with the jaw of the nearest Hydra goon in a sickening crack. 

 

Iron Man rounded the corner of the hall, taking out the agent at the end of the corridor before turning to Jane’s door where one of the agents was still frantically trying to escape.

 

“JARVIS, smoke the lab,” Tony ordered, waving one gauntleted hand at the goon who began to cough, collapsing to the floor as the room filled with gas. Tony turned, a cocky set to his shoulders as he observed Steve standing in the middle of the hall intersection with the bodies of two more Hydra operatives at his feet.

 

“That was fun!” Tony remarked. Steve only glared, his chest heaving. 

 

“You have the worst idea of fun of anyone I’ve ever met,” he snapped in disgust.

 

“What say we hang these morons on the side of the tower as a warning to others?” Tony suggested with an evil grin as his face plate retracted.

 

“You really shouldn’t tempt me,” Steve advised, his eyes narrowing as he touched his fingertips to his com. “Phil, I think we’ve got them, we could use a hand with the mop up.”

 

“I’m on my way down to you,” Phil reported in, sounding breathless. “Is Jamie all right?” 

 

“He’s fine,” Tony acknowledged. “He’s…” Tony’s voice trailed off as he turned to look down the corridor toward the fire stairwell.

 

“Where’s that blond idiot we took out first?” he asked cautiously. Steve’s eyes widened in horror.

 

“Jamie?!” He called out, his body coiled in tension. His superior hearing picked up the distant scuffle of feet coming from the stairwell before the shout.

 

“Dad!”


	18. Twinkle twinkle little star

“Dad!” 

 

The frightened scream from the stairwell sent a cold shiver down Steve’s spine. His breath hitched, his eyes growing impossibly wide and without a word he sprinted forward, running as fast as his legs would cary him, only barely aware of Tony shouting after him. He barreled though the stairwell doorway, past Phil who was coming down the steps at a dead run. He grasped hold of the railing, vaulting over it like a gymnast and swinging to catch the next one, flipping back and forth in the narrow gap between floors. farther down he spied movement and he caught a glimpse of Jamie struggling to twist free of the grasp of a blond man in a tac suit. Steve caught the next rail and pivoted, swinging his feet around and catching the man in the chest, sending him crashing into the concrete wall of the stairwell. 

 

The Hydra agent let out a wheeze and a curse, never losing his grasp on the boy as he drew his gun. Steve’s shield flew, knocking the pistol away and Steve drew back his fist.

 

The world seemed to grind into slow motion. He could hear the whine of repulsers behind him as if from far away, the sounds of footsteps above them in the stairwell. He caught Jamie’s eye’s, wide with fear, and the calculating look of the Hydra agent all in a mere fraction of a second. 

 

He didn’t even have time to get out a shout before the Hydra agent scooped up Jamie by his arm and tipped him over the stair rail. Steve let out a horrified cry as Jamie scrabbled at the air in mute terror and he rushed forward, shoving the man hard into the wall as he dove after the boy.

 

His fingers closed around Jamie’s wrist and he tucked the boy against his chest, curling around him like a cocoon as he collided with the rail, tumbling down the concrete steps with so much force that he crashed through the security doors on the next landing, knocking them off their hinges. He rolled down the slick tile floor of one of the R&D labs, Jamie still clutched in his arms as his head smacked against the floor and they slid to a stop.

 

“S…Steve?” Jamie’s voice wavered as he pushed himself off of the Captain’s chest, his eyes wide with fear as Steve lay on the floor, unmoving. “Steve?”

 

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaimed, his faceplate up and the limp form of the Hydra agent dangling from one gauntleted fist. He tossed the man aside like discarded luggage and lifted Jamie up, setting him on his feet before kneeling beside Steve.

 

“JARVIS?” he prompted worriedly.

 

“Captain Rogers has two cracked ribs and a moderate concussion,” Jarvis reported. “Master Jamie appears to be only bruised.”

 

“Steve?” Jamie’s fingers grasped at Tony’s armored shoulder as he leaned in, tears streaking his cheeks.

 

“He’s okay,” Tony insisted, giving Steve a rough prod. “Come on, wake up Spangles.” Steve let out a groan, clutching at his head as he rolled onto his side. He blinked the haze from his vision taking in his surroundings for only a moment before he bolted upright, pulling Jamie too him.

 

“Geeze, Freezer Pop,” Tony scolded. “stay on the floor for two minutes before you throw up all over my nice shiny tech!” Steve ignored him, his attention focused on the boy.

 

“Are you all right?” he demanded, his hands shaking as he ran them over Jamie’s arms. “Did they hurt you? Are you hurt anywhere?” Jamie shook his head slowly, his eyes watery and huge as he looked up at Tony who rolled to his feet, stalking to the nearest computer terminal.

 

"Jarvis, security override, this workstation," Tony ordered, his gauntlet folding back as he reached for the keyboard on one of the lab benches. "Give me access to the server logs."

 

“Jamie, what did you do?” Steve asked, his voice trembling as he continued to check every inch of the child for damage, going over each hand and finger “I’m not mad, I swear I won’t be mad but you have to tell me what you did.”

 

“Cap,” Tony interrupted, staring at the screen in front of him.

 

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Steve continued to babble. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay, just tell us what happened and we’ll fix it, Tony’ll fix it. Just tell us what you did.”

 

“Steve,” Tony’s voice was softer this time and Steve looked up at him with a terrified expression. “He didn’t do anything.”

 

“What?” Steve whispered.

 

“There’s no breech here,” Tony insisted, his fingers dancing over the readouts on the holo-screens. “JARVIS?”

 

“No data systems have been compromised,” JARVIS confirmed.

 

“Jay, mirror Jane’s terminal for me,” he ordered, his brow knitting as he studied the screen. “What is this?” Tony’s finger tapped an icon on the screen and the overhead lights flickered.

 

“Jamie, what are you doing? Jamie….stop…” It was a slightly awful approximation of JARVIS’ voice and Tony let out a snort of a laugh, pressing it again.

 

“Jamie, what are you doing? Jamie….stop…”

 

“What?” Steve’s voice trailed off as he looked up at the ceiling. Tony pressed the icon again, giggling.

 

“Jamie, what are you doing? Jamie….stop…”

 

“Sir that is terribly disconcerting,” JARVIS huffed.

 

“Sorry JARVIS,” Tony actually looked contrite, his fingers flicking over the files. “This… this video game looks like my server.”

 

“There is a redundant loop running a process in the background,” JARVIS reported. “I’m shutting it down now, sir.”

 

“I…” Steve looked up at Tony in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

 

“He set a trap,” Tony declared, one corner of his mouth curling up slightly, as he turned to give the child an impressed look. “he used kiddy software to set a trap for Hydra and then kept them here till we could make it back.”

 

“You weren’t helping them?” Steve asked, his voice shaking.

 

“I… I didn’t want to,” Jamie whispered, his eyes large and worried. Steve sagged.

 

"Buddy, how did you know they were coming?" Tony asked, gentling his tone as he bent down to meet the boy’s eye. "Did they contact you?” Jamie nodded

 

“How did they do that?” Tony asked.

 

“The monitor in the bathroom,” Jamie choked out.

 

“The emergency internal communications channels,” Tony glowered. “JARVIS, we’re going to need to work on that.”

 

“At once sir,” the AI replied.

 

“Is he all right?” Phil asked breathlessly, appearing in the stairwell doorway, his gun drawn.

 

“I don’t think he’s hurt,” Steve nodded shakily. 

 

“I took care of the guys upstairs,” Phil announced. Tony stretched, reaching out to grasp hold of the last of the hydra goons and giving him a none too gentle toss in Phil’s direction.

 

“Zip that one up for me, would you?” he requested. 

 

“JARVIS, are you sure he’s not hurt?” Steve asked, rubbing at his aching head as he looked up at the ceiling.

 

“He appears to be fine, Captain,” JARVIS replied. “I wish we could say the same for you.” Steve looked the slightest bit cowed and Tony shook his head.

 

“Jamie, buddy,” Tony knelt on the floor, his hand settling on the boy’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“They said they’d terminate the operation,” Jamie whispered, his lower lip trembling. Tony seemed to consider this a moment before his expression cleared with a knowing look.

 

“They can’t, kid,” he stated, shifting closer to rub circles on Jamie’s back. “If they could terminate anyone they’d have done it already. You don’t have to worry about that.”

 

“Tony’s right,” Steve nodded as Phil pulled some zip ties from his pockets. “The next time.”

 

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” Tony protested.

 

“There’s always going to be a next time,” Steve insisted, his expression pinched. “Next time, find me or Tony or Phil and tell us. Don’t do that again.”

 

“I,” Jamie mouthed at him wordlessly. “I’m sorry.” he finally squeaked out, huge tears spilling down his flushed cheeks.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve nodded, looking on the verge of tears himself as he dried the boy’s face. “You were scared and you didn’t know what to do so you did the best you could. Nobody’s mad, just don’t do that again, okay?” Jamie nodded shakily.

 

“I can report all floors secure, sir,” JARVIS announced. “Also it appears that the other Avengers have dealt with the incident in Philadelphia.”

 

“Finally some good news,” Tony declared drily as Phil pulled out his phone, distancing himself a few yards as he called in.

 

“It’s alright Jamie, look at me.” Steve ordered softly, drying the tears from the boy’s cheeks again. “Who told you they’d terminate the operation?”

 

“My… my handler,” Jamie whispered shaking. 

 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve soothed, smoothing Jamie’s hair back from his face. “Do you know his name?” the boy shook his head.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve assured. “We’re going to find him anyway.”

 

“Steve?” Phil prompted but Steve acted as if he couldn’t hear him, all his attention focused on the child.

 

“We’re going to find him and he is never going to threaten you again,” Steve promised. 

 

“Cap,” Phil stated more forcefully. Steve looked up as if surprised anyone else was there. “I think Sam has him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The footfalls down the long corridor of SHIELD’s New York office were sharp and determined and the agents made way for the broad shouldered blond, his red white and blue uniform splattered with dirt and faint traces of blood. 

 

Jamie’s small hand was clutched securely in Steve’s and the boy trotted along a half pace behind him, the super soldier’s long strides paced just slow enough so that the boy didn’t have to struggle to keep up. Jamie looked up nervously at the scrutinizing and surprised expressions of the SHIELD agents, before crowding in closer. Steve gave his hand a gentle squeeze but didn’t look down, his eye fixed straight ahead at the point half way down the corridor where Sam was lounging against the wall.

 

“So we found this character in the back of a sketchy Chinese joint,” Sam reported, falling into step on Steve’s other side. “He had a half dozen hackers chained up to some servers in a broken cooler. Literally.”

 

“Let me guess, five servers?” Steve asked tersely. Sam’s eyebrows arched but he gave a sharp nod. “Have we ID’d any of his programers?”

 

“Couple of them were teen runaways,” Sam shrugged. “One was reported missing from her college campus last semester.”

 

“I want them all vetted and returned to their families,” Steve insisted.

 

“We got Hill on it,” Sam nodded in agreement. He paused a moment, jerking his head toward the door in front of them at the end of the corridor. “She says this guy was one of theirs.” Steve’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he grasped the door handle without breaking stride, pushing it with just enough force so that it flew open but didn’t crash into the wall.

 

“Buck,” Steve prompted. Bucky was tucked in the darkest corner of the room, his arms folded over his chest, and without a word he raised his hand, pointing a silver disk in his palm at the security camera in the corner. There was a harsh beep and the red recording light blinked out. Steve’s calculating expression settled on the figure handcuffed to the interrogation table. The dark haired man had a bloody lip and a broken nose and one eye was rapidly turning a deep shade of purple. Sam crossed the room positioning himself behind the prisoner as Bucky pushed away from the wall, rubbing his scuffed knuckles with a pleased expression on his face.

 

“Jamie,” Steve’s voice gentled and he knelt on the floor, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Have you seen this man before?” Jamie bit his lip before nodding nervously.

 

“Is he the one who hacked into Tony’s coms?” Steve asked softly. Jamie nodded again, crowding into Steve’s shoulder with a frightened expression and Steve wrapped an arm around him, brushing a kiss on his temple.

 

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “He’s not going to bother you any more.”

 

“You must truly be a fool, Captain,” the Hydra agent snarled condescendingly. “To allow yourself to be compromised by this creature.” Steve was on his feet and had closed the small distance separating them in less than a second, his hand curling around the man’s throat.

 

“Call him that again,” Steve challenged.

 

“Steve,” Sam warned, his eye on Jamie’s fretful expression as Bucky hurried forward scooping the boy up in his arms.

 

“I’m going to ask you a really simple question about who else is in your operation,” Steve growled. “And then you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. And if I don’t like your answers, I’m going to let the guy with the bad hair use his left hand on you instead of his right.”

 

“Hey!” Bucky protested defensively.

 

“It doesn’t matter what I tell you,” the agent scoffed. “This project was highest priority. My unit was one of many involved.”

 

“I’m really beginning to not like you,” Steve threatened, his fingers tightening.

 

“You can kill me if you like, Captain,” he rasped. “others will come for him, cut off one head, two shall take its place.”

 

“Steve!” Sam barked. A cold smile settled over Steve’s face and he ever so slowly released his grip on the man’s neck.

 

“You know what’s wrong with people these days?” Steve observed, leaning in closer with a grin that had turned predatory. “No one studies the classics any more. In my day, you knew that if you wanted to kill a hydra, you didn’t cut off it’s head.” Steve rocked back on his feet, looking smug.

 

“You burned it.” 

 

Without another word he turned, nodding at Bucky as he headed for the door.

 

“Don’t fool yourself Captain,” the agent mocked. “You can treat it like a child but it is only a weapon, and one day we will use it.” Steve froze, turning slowly, a grim smile on his lips.

 

“I warned you.” and with that his fist collided with the man’s face in a sickening crack.

 

“He’s got good followthrough,” Jamie observed, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes.

 

“That he does,” Bucky agreed, stroking the boy’s hair as Steve shook out his fist over the unconscious Hydra operative before turning and heading for the door. It opened just as he reached it, revealing Maria Hill, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head to look past Rogers.

 

“Want to explain why my prisoner is drooling on my table?” she asked drily.

 

“He’s had a rough day,” Steve replied without missing a beat. “destroying a city takes a lot out of you.”

 

“And I suppose my security cameras were late for their nap time?” She questioned, her lips puckered in a perturbed frown.

 

“Well you know how it is when the little guys don’t get enough rest,” he answered, shrugging. Hill shook her head, letting out a sigh.

 

“I’m glad you’re here actually,” Steve admitted. “Ever since I woke up, everyone’s been telling me what a debt they owe me. I didn’t take it too seriously but now I’m starting to wonder just how many chips I could cash in.”

 

“I’m going to guess that you want him in a pit so deep and so dark that he forgets what sunlight looks like,” Hill stated, mater of fact.

 

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Steve gave a gracious nod.

 

“No, no trouble,” Maria shrugged, rolling her eyes just a bit. Her gaze fell on Jamie who was still wrapped in Bucky’s arms. The boy raised his hand, waving with just the tips of his fingers and she winced, rubbing her temples.

 

“Get out Rogers,” she ordered, sighing again.

 

“Ma’am,” he nodded, shifting past her and striding down the hall. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Yeah,” Bruce nodded, his STARKphone pressed to his ear as he paced slowly back and forth between the fridge and the microwave. “No, he’s all right, I mean as all right as he can be, I guess. No exterior damage. He’s pretty shaken up.”

 

“Let Jane know I’m sorry about her lab,” Tony remarked from where he sat at the kitchen table. Bruce only shot him a withering look in reply.

 

“So he used Steve’s DNA profile to get past the secure doors,” Pepper stated thoughtfully, her full lips twisting in a crooked frown. She turned to Tony. “And you didn’t think of this?”

 

“Of course I thought of it!” Tony rolled his eyes. “I just thought Steve was smart enough to hide his password from a six year old.”

 

“A very smart six year old,” Phil pointed out practically, taking a sip of his coffee. “I can keep the more incriminating details out of my SHIELD report. Fury’s not going to be aware of how badly things went off the rails, but we need to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

 

“It didn’t go off the rails,” Tony protested. “Apart from not saying anything to any of us, the kid made some mostly good decisions and the only thing the bad guys downloaded was twelve hours of Avengers playlists. Right now I’m more worried about the RIAA finding out than Fury.”

 

“It’s a safety concern, Tony,” Pepper reminded, her brow furrowed. “we can’t have a six year old accessing the labs, he could get hurt.” 

 

“Fine, fine,” Tony slumped into his chair at the table. “I’ll… test and see if the serum improved Steve’s vision enough to make his retina scans different from the kiddo’s.” 

 

“Bucky?” Phil inquired, drawing his attention. “Did Steve wear glasses as a kid?” Bucky shook his head. 

 

“Nobody could afford glasses in the thirties,” he shrugged with a huff before turning back to Thor. "Of course we didn't have to worry about stuff like this either."

 

“I do not understand your protest,” Thor insisted, draining his own mug. “It makes little sense to me. The Incredibles is a noble tale of profound truth and great deeds.”

 

“It’s not the story,” Bucky sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “The kid’s grown up in a lab convinced he’s a weapon of mass destruction. He hasn’t sorted out enough of his own issues yet.”

 

“I’m going to go with Thor on this one,” Clint shook his head, pointing at the Asgardian with his mug. “It’s too easy to blame this stuff on the media. Right Tasha?” Natasha hummed noncommittally in reply, her attention focused on the wall of crayon drawings that she was studying with a critical expression.

 

“Cartoons don’t cause violence?” Sam inquired with a droll look. “Hydra agents with giant spiders do?” 

 

“See,” Clint declared smugly. “Sam agrees with me!”

 

“I didn’t say I agreed with you,” Sam shrugged. 

 

“You can’t honestly think what he watches on TV is going to be any worse than being a Hydra science project.” Clint insisted incredulously.

 

“I think you’re all worried about all the wrong stuff, honestly,” Sam admitted, taking a pull of his beer.

 

“Bruce, ask Betty her opinion on the media’s influence on children,” Clint requested, leaning back in his chair to look over at Bruce. “She has a psych minor.”

 

“Shush,” Bruce waved a hand at him. He cringed, shaking his head. “No, not you, Clint. Wait a second.” He lowered the phone, turning to Tony. 

 

“Jane says voice print should be different enough,” He pointed out.

 

“Yeah,” Tony nodded thoughtfully. “That should work.”

 

“He really shouldn’t be lower than this floor without supervision,” Phil added. “He could get hurt in the gym on his own.”

 

“Just because he hasn’t tried to go there doesn’t mean he won’t,” Pepper agreed, rinsing out her coffee cup and stowing it in the dishwasher before crossing the kitchen to run her hands over Tony’s shoulders.

 

“I’m new at the whole Uncle Tony thing,” he stated defensively, leaning his head back so that Pepper could kiss his forehead. “and I had a chemistry set and a welding torch at his age, my judgement’s skewed.”

 

“I’m going to get a bath, don’t be up late,” She admonished.

 

“Goodnight Pepper,” Phil gave her a warm smile

 

“Goodnight, Pepper,” Thor nodded as the others waved.

 

“All I’m saying is it’s a movie with a grade school superhero in it and it’s going to give him the wrong ideas,” Bucky insisted. “I mean we don’t _want_ him in our line of work, do we? Really?”

 

“And I think he already got the idea from goon one and goon two issuing him orders from the bathroom mirror,” Clint countered.

 

“On Asgard we tell many tales of great deeds of warriors young and old alike,” Thor stated practically. “It is meant to teach nobility of action.”

 

“For all we know it’s what kept him from just mindlessly obeying their orders,” Clint nodded in agreement, tugging on Natasha’s sleeve though she didn’t respond.

 

“Seriously, guys,” Sam shook his head. “We have bigger problems than the ideas he gets from cartoons. The kid has some serious medical issues that we need to do something about and sever psychological trauma. And today is not going to help things. We should be discussing his treatment because Bruce needs some kind of backup before he talks to Cap about this stuff again.”

 

“And I second that,” Bruce added, covering the phone with his hand.

 

“Give my endless devotion to Jane,” Thor requested, looking over his shoulder at Bruce.

 

“Tell Jane that Thor sends his love,” Bruce sighed, stuffing his finger in his other ear. “Yes, he’s pining in a properly sickening fashion.” Bruce looked at the doorway, freezing in place. Steve was shuffling on the threshold with an uneasy expression.

 

“Is he finally asleep?” Phil asked, his brow furrowed in worry. Steve nodded jerkily, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

 

“Natasha,” he began hesitantly, licking his lips. “I was wondering if you wanted to call Rick and Anna or if I should do it?”

 

“Betty, I have to go,” Bruce declared into the uncomfortable silence that settled over the room. “My team is… being themselves.” No one spoke, all eyes darting between Steve and Natasha who was still studying Jamie’s drawing with a careful eye.

 

“Call and tell them what?” she asked mildly without turning to look at him.

 

“Well I was thinking,” Steve edged into the room with cautious steps. “A few of us should go along, stay on site at Pegasus for a week or two. Maybe have one of us stay with Jamie at their place until he’s comfortable so he doesn’t,”

 

“Think we’re throwing him away and freak out?” Clint suggested in a cold tone.

 

“Clint,” Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping.

 

“Well you can forget it,” Clint insisted with conviction. “I won't help you. The rest of you can do whatever you want but there is no way in hell I am going to help you with this.”

 

“Clint,” Steve shook his head with a miserable expression. “I think it’s clear that being around the Avengers isn’t good for him.”

 

“No, being around Hydra wasn’t good for him!” Clint snapped, his ire rising. “This is fall out. This is a six year old who doesn’t know how to be a six year old coping with things he can’t understand. You think he’s going to understand us taking him out to the middle of nowhere and just giving him to a bunch of strangers?”

 

“A week and a half ago _we_ were a bunch of strangers!” Steve reminded with a frown.

 

“A week and a half ago he didn’t know what a hug was!” Clint shouted angrily. “It’s not like you don’t know! You know what it’s like to lose everything and you want to do that to him?” Clint’s breath hitched as Steve winced looking away.

 

“Clint, that’s enough,” Tony stated softly.

 

“Tasha, tell him!” Clint pleaded. 

 

“We’re all under fire,” she murmured, still staring at the wall.

 

“What?” Clint snapped.

 

“In the drawings,” she replied waving a hand at the wall. “the ones he said made him afraid. We’re all under fire. Look at them.” Tony pushed himself out of his chair, crossing the room to lean over her shoulder.

 

“You know, I don’t think that’s Steve’s uniform,” he stated, pointing out a red splotch of crayon. He reached out, grasping the edge of the one with Hulk, struggling under a great boulder. Near it was one of Phil, at first glance it looked as if he were running but on closer inspection he might also be falling, the red scribbles on the edge of the paper that he’d ignored at first suddenly looking like fire.

 

“They told him they’d terminate the operation,” Phil stated, his brow furrowing. “He said that’s why he didn’t tell us.”

 

“I’ll be damned,” Tony gaped. “He was afraid they were going to terminate _us_.”

 

“They have trained him his whole life for that purpose alone,” Thor remarked with a sad frown. Clint turned on Steve with a dark glare.

 

“Don’t you see why that makes his being here even worse?” Steve demanded miserably, rubbing his eyes. “What’s he going to do the the next time one of us is hurt? We never say it, but we all know we’re probably not going to retire from the Avengers. What happens then?”

 

“What’s the difference between that and letting someone else adopt him?” Bruce asked gently. “Either way he loses who he has here.”

 

“It’s not like you don’t all have clearance for Pegasus!” Steve protested. “We have a plane, you can go out and visit him any time you want!”

 

“I’m noticing that you’re not saying ‘we’ here, Cap,” Sam declared flatly, pinning him with a frown.

 

“Stephen we should at least speak to the boy about this,” Thor observed with a sympathetic frown.

 

“He’s six,” Steve reminded. “how could he possibly know what’s in his best interests?”

 

“Steve we understand if you don’t feel up to the task of being a parent,” Phil stated, his tone soft. “but you don’t have to do this on your own. We’ll all be here.”

 

“This isn’t about,” Steve tried to interrupt but Phil shook his head.

 

“We even understand if it’s just something you don’t want,” he continued. “There’s absolutely no shame in admitting that. If that’s the case, let Clint and I take him.”

 

“You think this is about what I want?” Steve asked through gritted teeth. “You think any of this has _anything_ to do with what I want?” his face twisted in a scowl and he turned stalking toward the door. On the threshold he turned back, his hands balled into fists.

 

“When has _anything_ ever been about what I wanted?” he demanded angrily. “When have I _ever_ made a call that protected me ahead of someone else?” He hissed out a string of curses half under his breath as he spun on his heel, stalking out into the rec room.

 

“Oh hell no!” Clint protested, shoving his chair back from the table to follow.

 

“Clint?” Phil pleaded but the archer brushed him off.

 

“You do not get to walk away from this,” Clint insisted, following Steve into the rec room, the others trailing in their wake. “You do not get to stand there and pretend any of this is about anything other than keeping him as far away from you as possible.”

 

“Clint, back off,” Steve demanded coldly.

 

“I’ve been watching,” Clint reminded. “Every second since he got here. You don’t want him near you. And in spite of that, he worships the ground you walk on. He knows you don’t want him around you and he _still_ adores you. So you tell me what your real problem is.”

 

“I don’t have a problem,” Steve gritted out, rounding on him.

 

“Clint, back off,” Sam ordered emotionlessly, his hand settling on the archer’s shoulder. Clint snapped out a curse, stalking toward the window, his arms folded over his chest.

 

“Steve,” Sam turned to the Captain in his calmest tone. “If you take him from people he’s grown this attached to with no discussion or explanation it could cause severe emotional trauma and I know you don’t want that. So if you want us to back you up on this you’re going to have to give us a damn good reason.”

 

“This is no life for a child,” Steve insisted desperately.

 

“Normally I wouldn’t disagree with you, man,” Sam admitted. “But Clint’s right, even in the time I’ve been here I’ve seen it. He’s been looking to you, trying to emulate you.”

 

“I’m the last person in the world he should emulate,” Steve snapped.

 

“Why?” Sam questioned. “Because you’re too afraid of loss to let yourself admit when you love someone?” 

 

“Because I _hated_ me!” Steve shouted angrily. “Everything, everything I was, I despised! What’s he supposed to learn from me except self loathing? What can I possibly give him except the sense that he isn’t good enough? He doesn’t deserve that, no one does! I know, I lived with it every day and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone! I hated being that, and he’s going to know that every time he looks at me! Every day of his life as soon as he’s old enough to understand what I did, he’s going to look at me and feel like he doesn’t measure up because I was willing to risk dying rather than be what he is! What I was, that Steve Rogers died in a basement in Brooklyn and _I_ killed him because I hated him!”

 

“I loved him,” It was Bucky’s gentle voice and Steve sagged in on himself with a half sob. “He was stupid and scrappy and the bravest bastard I’ve ever know in my life and I _loved_ him. And I spent half my time terrified to death that he was going to get himself killed because he wouldn’t back down and the other half angry because no one else wanted to see what I saw in him.” Bucky’s hand settled between Steve’s shoulders and he stooped as if the weight of the comforting gesture were too much.

 

“And you know what Steve?” Bucky continued. “I love the kid too, because what I see in him, it’s the same thing I’ve always seen in the best friend I’ve ever had, the best man I’ve ever known. There isn’t anything in the world that could change that about you.” Steve let out a broken sound and Bucky surged forward, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Stevie,” he murmured into Steve’s hair. “It’s going to be fine.”

 

“I don’t want him to be me,” Steve choked out desperately, clinging to his friend. “I want him to be better than that. He deserves so much better than that.”

 

“He could do a lot worse than you,” Bucky sighed, holding tight to him. “And I don’t know how he could do any better. Don’t think I didn’t understand. You were sick and in pain and desperate. You didn’t have a lot of choices but he does, he doesn’t have to grow up the way you did. Steve, all he sees when he looks at you is someone who’d do anything for him.”

 

“He shouldn’t be around me,” Steve insisted.

 

“He needs you,” Bucky replied. “Same way I always did. He needs you to tell him that he’s great the way he is. You’re the only one that can.”

 

“S…Steve?” Steve’s head shot up at the hesitant, shaky sound of Jamie’s voice. The boy stood at the foot of the stairs, his eyes bloodshot and his tiny shoulders shaking. Steve pulled free of Bucky’s grasp, crossing the room in three strides and wrapping the child in his arms.

 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Steve’s voice was surprisingly even as he knelt on the floor, tucking the blond head under his chin as he cradled Jamie to his chest. The boy nodded, tangling his small fingers in the sleeve of Steve’s t-shirt “It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe, baby, I’m not going to let anything hurt you, it was just a dream.”

 

“I don’t want to go back to before,” Jamie whimpered fresh tears streaking his cheeks. “back… back to the lab. I don’t want to be that.”

 

“I’m never going to let anyone take you back there,” Steve promised, stroking his hair. “You’re going to be fine, I promise. You’re going to have a good life and you’re going to be happy and loved and safe and no one is ever going to hurt you like that again.”

 

“‘Cause you’ll be there?” Jamie’s voice shook as he pressed his damp face into Steve’s chest. “‘cause we’re family?”

 

“Oh Jamie,” Steve gave a miserable sigh, his voice trembling as he curled around the boy protectively. “I’m… I’m not any good for you, buddy. You deserve to have so much and I’m… I make mistakes, terrible, selfish ones. I don’t know how to be a dad, I don’t remember mine. I can’t give you anything you should have.”

 

“I’d have you,” Jamie snuffled into Steve’s shirt. Steve’s face crumpled and he buried his fingers in soft blond locks, kissing the top of Jamie’s head.

 

“If you want to stay here you don’t have to pick me,” Steve reasoned, his voice warbling. “You can choose Clint and Phil if you want, they’d be great to you, they’d be amazing.”

 

“Who’d look after you?” Jamie asked, looking up at him with wide, tear-stained eyes.

 

“Buddy, that’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Steve answered, swallowing thickly. Jamie pushed himself up, wrapping both arms around Steve’s neck and hugging him fiercely.

 

“Bucky says families look out for each other,” Jamie murmured into his neck. “‘Cause they want to be together.” Steve’s breath hitched and he held on tighter, nuzzling the boy.

 

“Don’t cry okay?” Steve soothed, rubbing his back. “You only cry when you’re scared, and you shouldn’t be scared. I don’t want you to be scared.”

 

“I can stay?” Jamie’s asked shakily. “I can stay with you? I want to be with you.”

 

“Jamie,” Steve pleaded softly.

 

“I want to stay with you,” Jamie insisted. “Please?”

 

“Okay,” Steve relented, tears stinging his own eyes. “Okay, whatever you want, buddy.”

 

“Promise?” Jamie’s voice faltered and Steve’s face contorted in a miserable expression.

 

“I promise,” he nodded, rocking Jamie back and forth. “But you have to be sure, you can’t change your mind. You’re going to be stuck with me.”

 

“I’m sure,” Jamie whispered. “Dad.” Steve closed his eyes, pressing his lips to Jamie’s cheek as the boy’s small hands fisted in his shirt, clinging for dear life.

 

“Okay,” Steve nodded after a moment. “I’m going to do my best. You deserve to have a really great dad and I might not be that good, but I’m going to do my best, okay?” Jamie nodded against his shoulder and Steve cleared his throat, climbing to his feet with Jamie still snug in his arms.

 

“I, um,” Steve hesitated a moment meeting Bucky’s eye. “I have to put my son to bed, can we… finish this later?”

 

“I think we’re done,” Bucky remarked with a wry smile. He reached out, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand settle on Jamie’s back.

 

“You’re okay, buddy,” he insisted softly. “You’re safe, your dad’s got you.” Jamie peeped up at him with red eyes and Bucky brushed a tear from his cheek.

 

“Come on, baby,” Steve murmured tenderly against Jamie’s hair as he turned, climbing the stairs. “I’ll stay with you till you fall asleep.” 

 

A grin spread over Tony’s face and he looped one arm around Clint’s shoulder and the other around Bruce. Bucky jostled Thor playfully as Natasha leaned into his side and Phil slipped his arm around Clint’s waist, kissing his cheek in a rare display of affection as Thor wrapped an arm around Sam.

 

“I believe he will be all right,” Thor observed, Bucky squeezed his shoulder, pulling Natasha closer.

 

“They’ll both be fine,” he nodded in agreement.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s talk about something we don’t often talk about when we discuss Steve Rogers and how it relates to the way I’ve chosen to portray Steve’s personal issues in this story. Let’s talk about Project Rebirth. Specifically lets talk about a ninety pound asthmatic crawling into a metal coffin and allowing himself to be pumped full of chemicals before being bombarded with radiation. Now let’s talk about the fact that when we watch this scene in CA:TFA we hear Steve screaming in pain. 
> 
> It doesn’t hold the same horror as when we watch Bucky having his memory wiped in CA:TWS because we don’t see his face, and I think that’s intentional on the part of the filmmakers. They don’t want you to be horrified, they want you to think about how brave Steve is, so they don’t show you his expression. 
> 
> But lets think about this in context, Steve is screaming in pain in front of his commanding officer, in front of Dr. Erskine, who is probably one of the few father figures Steve has had in his life, and most of all, in front of a woman he’s clearly infatuated with. And when the people in charge of the experiment determine that -they- are uncomfortable with the level of pain they are inflicting on Steve and move to shut the machine down Steve begs them not to stop.
> 
> Steve begs them to continue torturing him.
> 
> I played volleyball as a kid and I more than once “played through the pain” I played at points when I should have stopped, and I did it because I wanted to win. But I never once continued playing to the point where I was screaming in pain. And I think that’s an important distinction. This isn’t a young man desperate to prove himself. This is a young man desperate to be someone else entirely. Someone who’s so miserable inside his own skin that the threat of death and torture seems preferable and you do not get to that place without some measure of self loathing. I think we gloss over that a lot when we talk about Steve, that what he agreed to was something that might have easily killed him and he would rather risk death than continue the way he was. That is a head full of issues right there.


	19. Epilogue

_Five weeks later._

 

 

Steve let out a laugh, closing the waffle maker as Jamie bounced on his Captain America cross-trainers across the kitchen tile to Colbie Caillat. Bruce shook his head, watching the child in amusement from his spot at the breakfast bar.

 

 

_I, I, I wasn't expecting  
But who am I to tell fate where it's supposed to go with it_

_Don't you blink, you might miss it_   
_See we got a right to just love it or leave it_   
_You find it and keep it_

 

“How is he that perky in the morning?” Clint mumbled, shuffling across the tile to the k-cup machine, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

 

“I can’t imagine where he gets it,” Steve shrugged, grinning as Jamie danced around the table. Clint threw him a glare, his expression clearing almost instantly as Jamie grasped both his hands. Clint lifted him off the floor, giving the boy a small swing back and forth before setting him on his feet again, smiling as the child bounded off.

 

“Hey somebody’s feeling better,” Phil observed smiling warmly as Jamie stopped just long enough to hug him around the waist before making another circuit around the table. “Are the test results in yet?” He gave Bruce a curious look but the physicist shook his head.

 

“Betty’s running the test now,” Bruce replied. “We should have the results before breakfast is over.”

 

“It’ll be fine, Steve,” Bucky declared, grabbing an orang juice from the fridge. “Just, either way, it’ll be fine.”

 

“I know,” Steve nodded, fussing with the waffle maker.

 

“Morning rugrat,” Sam yawned, awkwardly patting Jamie’s hair as the boy danced past him. He bounced toward Steve, tugging on the hem of his T-shirt. Steve let out a snort, handing his fork to Phil and sweeping Jamie up, tossing him in the air and catching him.

 

“Dance!” Jamie commanded, tugging on Steve’s hand as he set the boy on the floor. 

 

“Oh that’s an accident waiting to happen,” Clint observed, leaning into Phil who shushed him as he removed the waffle from the iron. Steve ignored him, taking Jamie’s hand and spinning him in a pirouette.

 

“Hey, you cut a rug pretty good,” Jane observed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she and Thor trailed into the kitchen in their pajamas. Jamie tilted his head to grin up at her.

 

“Tasha taught me,” Jamie declared. 

 

“Yeah she taught me too,” Steve nodded. “She’s a good teacher.” 

 

“You’re welcome,” Natasha said drily, ruffling Jamie’s hair as she passed them on the way to the k-cup machine.

 

 

_I never seen it, but I found this love, I'm gonna feed it_   
_You better believe I'm gonna treat it_   
_Better than anything I've ever had_   
_'Cause you're so damn beautiful_

 

 

“Why are all these people in the kitchen this early?” Tony demanded, standing on the hall threshold in a ratty band shirt and torn jeans, his coffee cup clutched in one hand. 

 

“Because the first day of school is a big deal,” Darcy declared, rolling her eyes as she prodded him out of her way. She crossed the kitchen as he loitered half inside the door with a perplexed expression.

 

“First day of school isn’t until Wednesday,” Tony pointed out condescendingly. 

 

“This is Wednesday, Tony,” Bruce gave him a pitying look. Tony seemed to consider this a moment.

 

“Damn,” he stated finally.

 

 

_Oh, we could be the stars, falling from the sky_   
_Shining how we want, brighter than the sun_

 

Steve skidded to a stop in the doorway to the rec room, staring mutely at Betty. She gave him a smile, checking her watch.

 

“About twenty minutes,” she answered his unspoken question. He gave a tight nod, swinging Jamie onto his hip and kissing his cheek as he carried the boy across the kitchen, setting him on the counter beside Bucky who was eating the damaged waffles directly from the iron.

 

“Did you finish your chapter in your new book last night?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter. Jamie nodded, reaching out to pick his STARKpad off the breakfast bar and hugging it to his chest. “Let me see.” Jamie handed him the tablet and Steve flicked it on.

 

“Stewart Little, huh?” Steve asked. “I never read that one, is it good so far?” Jamie nodded again.

 

“I loved Stewart Little,” Phil remarked with a fond smile.

 

“That was one of my favorites when I was six,” Jane agreed.

 

“Okay, Ms, Karen’s going to be here in about an hour to start your lessons,” Steve reminded, handing the tablet back to his son with a smile. “You’re going to do fine, you really liked her when you met her yesterday, right?” Jamie nodded with a sheepish smile.

 

“You’re going to love her,” Phil added. “She’s a very good teacher.”

 

“She’s an awesome teacher,” Clint insisted. “She helped me with my GED requirements when I first joined SHIELD. She helped me with my procedural certifications too.”

 

“Karen helped everyone with their procedural certifications,” Natasha pointed out. 

 

“That’s why hardly anyone passes the first time any more now that she’s retired from SHIELD,” Phil chuckled.

 

“First grade is going to be a cakewalk compared to Clint,” Natasha teased.

 

“Hey now!” The archer protested as Jamie giggled.

 

“Now I have a training session at SHIELD today,” Steve reminded. “So Clint’s going to pick you up from school for lunch and after that you can spend some time in the lab with Tony and Bruce.”

 

“No blowtorches,” Jamie stated. Tony wrinkled his nose, taking a gulp of his coffee as Bruce and Betty chuckled.

 

“No blowtorches,” Steve agreed. “At three Phil or Nat will take you down to Forty-two so you can play with your friends in the after school program, and I will be there to pick you up at five thirty sharp, okay?” Jamie nodded firmly and Steve brushed a kiss on his forehead. 

 

“And if there’s a call-out?” Steve prompted.

 

“Stay with Ms. Karen or Darcy,” Jamie replied confidently. Steve nodded.

 

“I’m proud of you, buddy,” Steve declared softly. Jamie’s cheeks flushed in a pleased expression and he wiggled as if he couldn’t hold in his delight.

 

“Steve?” Pepper had appeared in the doorway in one of her perfectly appointed suits, a folder in her arms and a smile on her lips. “Legal’s finished going over the paperwork. Everything looks good.” Steve took a deep breath, nodding before turning to Natasha.

 

“I, uh, need a notary?” he asked.

 

“My seal’s in my bag,” she nodded, giving his arm a squeeze and heading for the rec room. “I’ll get it.” Steve took one of the folders from Pepper, meeting Jamie’s eye with a nervous expression.

 

“This is it, buddy,” he said softly. “You can’t change your mind after this. Is this still what you want?” Jamie’s head bobbed in an emphatic nod as he grinned up at Steve and the Captain kissed his forehead.

 

“Okay, lets do this then,” Steve resolved, opening the folder as Natasha returned to the kitchen. “Sam, Bruce, can I get you guys to witness this for me?”

 

“Sure, man,” Sam nodded, pushing himself away from the counter as Bruce slid out of his seat at the bar beside Betty.

 

“Disposition of SHIELD Index Juvenile,” Natasha read off the paperwork, unpacking her seal. “Under this agreement the Index juvenile James Anthony Rogers will be remanded into the permanent custody of his biological parent Stephen Grant Rogers.” Tony made a face as Bucky blushed.

 

“I still say it’s an awful name,” Tony protested. Thor elbowed him lightly in the ribs as Pepper shushed him.

 

“Sign here,” Natasha ordered, pointing at the appropriate line. Steve took a deep breath, smiling at Jamie before signing his name.

 

“We should have a party tonight, right?” Tony asked, looking around the room as Sam and Bruce signed as well. “With cake. JARVIS?”

 

“I’ll make the appropriate arrangements, Sir,” the AI responded.

 

“Can we have pizza?” Jamie asked hopefully.

 

“Pizza and cake,” Tony nodded as Natasha finished dating the paperwork.

 

“Pepperoni and sausage?” the boy added.

 

“Whatever you want, buddy,” Tony agreed as the child grinned brightly.

 

“That’s it,” Natasha declared with a satisfied smile, closing the folder. “You’re official. I’ll make sure you have his new documentation from SHIELD by the end of the week.”

 

“Here’s the other thing you asked for,” Pepper added, handing Steve a second folder. Steve looked at the closed folder in his hand for long moment before clearing his throat.

 

“I, I really want to thank all of you,” he said, the buzz of the kitchen growing still around him. He took hold of Jamie’s small hand in his free one, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I… don’t even know where to start. So just, thanks for everything.”

 

“Hey, our pleasure, Cap,” Tony stated with a rare, genuinely warm smile. Steve nodded in reply.

 

“Clint, Phil, there’s something Jamie and I want to ask you,” he stated. Phil looked up from the waffle iron in surprise as Clint’s brow furrowed in a curious frown. Thor reached out, taking the fork from Phil and tending to the waffle iron as Phil stepped closer to Clint.

 

“This, what we do, it’s not safe,” Steve admitted. “And we’ve all been injured. Jamie and I discussed it, who he’d want to take care of him if I couldn’t.” Steve held out the folder to Phil who took it cautiously, opening it as Clint leaned over his shoulder.

 

“Steve,” Clint declared breathlessly, looking up at him with wide eyes as Phil stared mutely at the open folder. “these are _guardianship_ papers.”

 

“You were right, Phil,” Steve stated. “I’m not comfortable being a single parent. Especially not with what we do. He needs someone who can protect him when I’m on a mission or in medical… I don’t want to have to wonder about what’s going to happen to him. This way you won’t even need a judge to grant custody. You’d have the same rights as a noncustodial parent.”

 

“Steve are you sure about this?” Phil asked, meeting his gaze with a shocked expression. “What if something happens to all three of us.”

 

“Then Thor and Jane will step in,” Steve replied, nodding at the grinning Asgardian who was prying a waffle from the iron. “I already set up my will. I understand if you can’t do this, I really do. But I would be really grateful if you could.”

 

“Where do I sign?” Clint asked, rubbing his eyes on his arm as he reached for the pen Jamie was holding out with a bright grin.

 

“Clint,” Phil declared in fond exasperation as Natasha took the folder from him, setting it on the counter and pointing out the places for Clint to initial and sign. Clint dried his eyes again, holding out the pen to Phil as he stepped back.

 

“You’re absolutely sure?” Phil asked. Steve looked at Jamie whose head bobbed as if it were on a spring and Steve grinned, turning back to Phil and nodding as well. Phil drew in a deep breath, taking the pen and signing.

 

“Thanks,” Clint choked out, giving Steve a hug. 

 

“I should be thanking you,” Steve replied, hugging him back. Clint released him to wrap his arms around Jamie, swinging the boy onto his hip.

 

“Big day for you, huh?” he observed as the child snuggled into his shoulder, nodding with a bright smile. 

 

“Big day for all of us, I think,” Pepper smiled, leaning into Tony’s side as Phil scooped Jamie out of Clint’s arms, holding him tight.

 

“Doctor Ross?” JARVIS interrupted. The happy hum that filled the kitchen stilled almost instantly. Steve reached for Jamie and Phil handed him over, turning to draw an arm around Clint who leaned into him, biting his lip.

 

“Yes, Jarvis?” Betty answered, grasping hold of Bruce’s hand.

 

“I have the results of the most recent blood work,” the AI replied. He paused as Bruce gave a nod, the others in the room looking equally tense. “Cells showing the corrected gene sequence are at Fifty-two percent.”

 

Clint let out a whop, tackling Phil around the neck and nearly knocking him to the floor.

 

“Oh thank god,” Steve breathed out, hugging Jamie to his chest. 

 

“That’s good right?” the boy asked, tangling his arms around Steve’s neck.

 

“That’s very good,” Betty stated as Steve nodded. He mouthed a thank you to Betty and Bruce who’d tugged off his glasses to rub his eyes.

 

“You’re doing better,” Steve declared hoarsely, kissing the boy’s cheek. “You won’t get sick so often now.” Jamie beamed at him, planting a kiss on Steve’s forehead and the Captain laughed.

 

“The last of the waffles are done,” Thor prompted, pulling out the trays that had been set to warm in the oven. Steve gave Jamie one last squeeze before plopping him in a chair at the table next to Phil and taking the one beside him.

 

“Eat up,” Bucky ordered, reaching around Steve to load Jamie’s plate. “You’re going to need the energy.” Jamie forked up a large bite of waffle, chewing thoughtfully as he looked up at Steve. He put his fork down, shifting onto his knees so that he could wrap his arms around Steve’s neck.

 

“What is it?” Steve asked, his hand settling on the boy’s back.

 

“Thank you,” Jamie murmured softly against his shoulder. Steve’s expression melted and he let his head rest against the boy’s.

 

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing Jamie’s ear.

 

“I love you too,” Jamie answered. “Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone who read. If you enjoyed it and you want to see more there are plans for expansions to this universe. I can't promise a timetable but keep an eye on the series and we'll see what happens.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally answer questions in the comments unless I feel it's important to a majority of readers. but if you have questions and you want answers, my ask on Tumblr is open.
> 
> [niennanir.tumblr.com](http://niennanir.com)


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